The Avatar's Redemption
by CrossCountryChick16
Summary: What if Aang had lost to Ozai? What if Aang was unable to go into the Avatar State, so he ran? What if the rest of the Gaang lost their own fights and got separated as well? What will they be like ten years later, and will they be able to reunite and perform the coup of the century before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1: Regretful Cowardice

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own any part of Avatar: The Last Airbender. The idea of my story (that Aang lost to Ozai on the day of Sozin's Comet), however, is my own original idea and is (obviously) not canon with the series, along with the main pairing of my story: TophxAang (Taang).**

** Anyways, enjoy :)**

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_Chapter 1: Regretful Cowardice_

Sometimes, when he lies in his hopelessly dilapidated bed and watches the leftover rain slip through the holes in his roof, he thinks that life his would be much simpler, even easier, if he had a set goal to work towards.

He pushes himself up slowly, back to elbow to palm until he's in a sitting position on his bed, his fuzzy mind a constant reminder that he didn't sleep a wink last night. The past week has been full of restless nights for him. Instead of sleeping, he stays up and ponders his past mistake and daily struggle. He hates how he lies to himself every day by believing that what happened so many years ago hadn't been foreseeable, or that hiding from it is acceptable.

Back then, more than a while ago, his life _was_ easier, a trait he relates to his goal of defeating a fire-breathing king. A long time ago, he had spare time to goof around and act like the kid he was, but was still able to focus on what eventually had to be done. Unfortunately, when the time came and destiny called, he couldn't deliver.

He tugs the sheets off his noticeably long legs, regretting it in an instant when he feels the chill of his room. His ratty blankets are in desperate need of a washing, as are his overused clothes. He places his bare feet down on the creaking wooden floor and looks down at them, then at the backs of his hands. His eternal markings mock him daily, so much so that hiding them every day almost gives him solace. He rubs a hand over his dark bed head as he releases a mentally and physically exhausted sigh.

Almost.

He can't run from it anymore. No matter how much he avoids them during the day, his memories take the form of a nightmare every time he closes his eyes and hopes for a dreamless sleep. If he stays up all night to avoid the frightening dreams, his daytime hours are haunted by deformed daydreams akin to hallucinations. No matter what he does, he can't hide from his past.

Perhaps the most terrifying part of his dreams, whether they be in the day or night, is that they portray the absolute truth. Every second of it is cruelly honest, from the heat of his enemy's fire to the wind on his face as he ran away. Ran away from the one person he was expected to stop. Ran away from that fight, that life, forever.

He slams a closed fist down onto his bed.

He was a coward.

He looks up and catches a glimpse at his own face in the reflection of his dusty mirror. Lightly tanned skin, defined facial features, a cleanly cut patch of facial hair on his chin that doesn't stick out quite enough to be a goatee, storm-cloud eyes stuck between dark circles and narrowed eyebrows that portray his current emotions: guilt, self-abhorrence, shame. And of course, the sky blue arrow on his forehead, the sight of it forcing the horrid memory back into his mind for the umpteenth time. His eyes fall to the floor.

He still is a coward.

Ten years ago, he didn't feel this way.

Back then he was happy, careless even, as he rode giant Koi fish and slid down giant mail chutes. Even with these childish antics, almost everyone around him admired and respected him because of his label. Nowadays, his label would lead to him loosing his head after long periods of torture that would leave him begging for death. But a decade ago, practically everyone wanted to know him, even befriend him. Then, of course, there were his real friends.

He was so close to them that they were like the mismatched family that he'd never had. They were all so different, yet they found it so rudimentary to stay close-nit and be able to comfort one another. He used to think that they'd be that way forever: happy, loving, together.

Now he has to wonder if any of them are even still alive.

He groans as he finally leaves his bed and stretches, breathing out heavily as his bones crack. He yawns before igniting a small flame above his hand, illuminating his dark, damp room to a degree.

He quickly finds his long sleeved undershirt and tugs it over his bare torso. The fabric of it is a deep red, almost maroon color. One of Phoenix King Ozai's many laws is that each citizen must be wearing national colors at all times. Because of that, his wardrobe consists of blacks, reds, and golds. Because of his need to cover his tattoos, almost every shirt he owns is long sleeved. The only exception to this is his sleeveless uniform top that's required at his workplace. He lazily pulls the faded piece of clothing over his dark red shirt. It used to be gold, but after years of daily wear, it'd be lucky to pass for tan.

His black work boots are next. They're curled a bit at the toes, like most shoes from Fire Nation culture are. He stuffs his loose red pants into the mid-calf high boots and fastens a black and red belt around his waist.

Lastly, he ties a black headband around his forehead to cover the main piece of his tattoo. The red symbol of the tyrannical Fire Nation is stitched in the center of the headband, but he wears it upside-down to resemble his arrow. Whatever pride he still possesses is displayed by this small act of rebellion. Lately, it's the only thing that can tug at the corners of his permanent frown.

Every day of the past three years has been the same. He has an everyday routine that seldom changes, so much so that it's almost like clockwork. Deathly, mind-numbing clockwork, but consistent nonetheless.

He works as a coal miners in a nearby cave network. It's simple enough, his job. He mines the coal with a pickaxe then shovels it into carts to be taken to the local coal merchant. It's tedious to have to mine without his bending, but he'd be stupid to try. Any form of bending, other than firebending, is legal only in the Fire Nation capital city, and is only used for hard labor.

Sometimes, as he shovels the dusty coal, he'd find himself thinking of the old times, back when he still possessed a child's mental capacity, still found things to laugh at, and was still surrounded by people he could fully and completely trust. In short, he'd think about back when he was happy. Most of the time, his thoughts would consume his whole being.

Eventually, though, one of the firebending managers would yell at him to 'get on back to work, maggot'. The managers are grisly men, with their snarky grins, pressed red jackets, and furry facial hair. They don't do any actual work in the caves. No, they're just there to watch over the coal miners and make sure they make their quota. He wishes he could yell back at them sometimes, but he's no fool, so he says nothing. None of his coworkers ever talk. Instead, they work in lonely silence, exchanging pained glances whenever the managers have their backs turned.

Before his job in the mines, he'd spent seven years on the run. He never stayed in one place for too long and never made any acquaintances. Who could he trust in a world where so many people wanted and still want him dead?

The small town he lives in, Lu Ren, is a very secluded part of a small Fire Nation colony near the coast of what used to be the EarthKingdom. He's had no trouble for the past three years, but he's not entirely comfortable here. The people around here know him as Kuzon Rai, a young, coal-mining bachelor who prefers to keep to himself and hardly ever leaves his home for anything besides work. If only they knew who he really is.

He meanders to his bedroom window and opens his shutters to allow a bit of light into his dreary room. The early morning sun is just above the horizon, turning the sky into a peachy field of fluffy white clouds. He unconsciously smiles. He can always count on nature to give him beautiful landscapes to appreciate.

Then again, the beauty is devastating, taunting him and pulling him deeper into his pit of despair.

He closes his shutters with a sudden force.

Other than his bedroom, his meager house contains just a small restroom and kitchenette. All of his furniture is old, picked from deposited piles of chairs and tables that no one else wanted. They're not much, but they do the job.

Sitting at his rickety table, he eats a mediocre breakfast of stale bread and a bruised apple. Even though his life seems hopeless at times, he still follows the ways of the monks, if not to continue his forgotten culture, then to help him cling to his wavering sanity.

His walk to work is a long one. He must travel through town then down a long dirt road before he arrives at the entrance to the cave. When he leaves his home, he subtly earthbends a small block on the inside of the door to prevent anyone from pushing it open. He'd never had a proper lock attached to his door for two reasons: one, he can't afford it, and two, it's unnecessary, for no thief if his right mind would waste his time stealing from a house that looks like it's about to collapse onto itself.

As he approaches the center of town, he double-checks that his headband it secure, but his motion is almost unnecessary. Even the main square of Lu Ren is silent, inhabited only by a few early risers, most of them on their way to the mines as well. It's a sad silence that chills him to his core. He walks faster.

A wall decorated with wanted posters catches his eye. The wanted pictures are typical: quick sketches of burly men in some kind of disguise, some brandishing a weapon. One poster, though, manages to catch is eye. It must have been put up late last night.

The face belongs to a woman with pale skin and ebony hair, strands of it covering her eyes. A piece of fabric is tied around the lower half of her face, no doubt in attempt to conceal her identity. Her nickname, "_Silent Landslide_", is scrawled in medium sized symbols under the somewhat lifelike headshot. Even smaller still is instructions on how to act if one should come in contact with the criminal, printed under her name: "_Very dangerous and prone to violence. Do __**not**__ approach. Contact local law enforcement with information regarding this criminal_".

He absentmindedly puts a hand on the piece of paper. The pictured girl is twenty if she's a day, but she's already one of the most wanted people around. Not only that, but she seems heartbreakingly familiar.

He tears his eyes and hand from the poster and keeps on moving, trying not to look back at it or at the wanted poster with his face on it. The picture of him, though, is far off. The artist had to guess what he would look like after ten years elapsed, and he was, thankfully, very far off. The man pictured is still bald, has glowing eyes, and no facial hair whatsoever.

Unable to contain himself, he turns and looks at the girl's wanted poster again, but doesn't stop walking. Not watching where he's going, he walks right into someone and knocks them and himself over.

He sees a bag hit the ground and a small hand reach for it. He mentally slaps himself.

"I'm so sorry, miss," he says to the woman as he stands and holds out a hand to help her up. She finally gets a hand on her satchel and looks up at him. Her hair is a rusty brown, her eyes a golden amber, her face kind. She can't be any older than nineteen. She grasps his hand and he pulls her up easily. "I really must learn to watch where I'm going."

She lets go of his hand after she's back on her feet and dusts off the white apron over her faded red dress. "No, no, I'm sorry," she replies, her voice light and friendly. "I was too busy watching the clouds to watch where _I_ was going." She giggles slightly and holds out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Eri, by the way." When she meets his gaze, her face gets pink and she averts her eyes.

Aang takes her hand and shakes it. "Kuzon. Sorry again." She opens her mouth to say something else, but he's already gone, walking briskly away with a stoic expression. When he's a safe distance away, he leans against a building and exhales heavily.

The girl was pretty, and was, if he guessed right, a bit interested in him. That's why he retreated, for his safety and hers.

He'll never be able to get involved with any woman. Even if she promises to keep his identity a secret, knowing who he truly is would put her in danger. He could never be so selfish.

He sighs and walks on, making it to the rock quarry just barely on time. One of the managers looks at him as he rushes to join the assembled group of miners. "Rai, so wonderful of you to join us."

Per usual, he says nothing.

Kuzon Rai is a silent man, seemingly very skittish and allergic to human interaction, specifically between himself and a young woman. He has an unknown reason for tying a headband around his forehead, never giving a straight answer when asked about it. Some say he's antisocial; others say he's just shy. No one can make factual assumptions about him, as no one really knows him. No one knows that Kuzon is actually an alias for a wanted man, perhaps the _most_ wanted man in the entire world.

Kuzon's real name is Aang. He's been on the run from Phoenix King Ozai for almost a decade, because in a world ruled by a tyrannical, pyromanic king, the Avatar can't exactly stop to smell the lotuses.

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**Soooo there's chapter 1, which I affectionately call "The Headband's Revenge". I'm hoping to have frequent updates for this story, once a week (every Friday) if I can manage it. For now I should be able to, but when school starts up again I'm not so sure. Anyways, Review!**

**-CrossCountryChick16, Triple C, CCC16, whatever you wanna call me ;D**

**p.s., I already have chapter 2 done and I'll post it earlier than next friday if y'all tell me that want me too (I'm prompting you to review, if you couldn't guess :D)**

**p.p.s., If Aang had a theme song for this chapter, it would be "Sound the Bugle" by Bryan Adams. I listened to that song a lot while I wrote this.**


	2. Chapter 2: The All Seeing Blind

**Hello! It's me again! Sick of me yet? No? Well, coolness.**

**First off, thank you all for your reviews, favorites, follows, PMs, et cetera. **

**Secondly, please keep reviewing! ^_^**

**Thirdly, I'm SOOOO glad you guys like this story idea. I'd been sitting on it for a while before I actually posted it. **

**Finally, Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own any part of ATLA.**

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_Chapter 2: The All-Seeing Blind_

This particular night, the scenery around her is picturesque. Not a cloud interrupts the blackness of the nighttime sky. Thousands of stars are studded into that dark sky, like white flecks on black fabric. The light of the full moon reflects off the mountain fortress protecting her people, turning it a pearly white.

She almost wishes that she could see it. But not quite.

Shifting her feet, she confirms that she's the only person above ground for many miles around. Her way of seeing may not be useful on a scenic stroll, but if a ground threat approaches, she can sense it before it can come within miles of her camp. Recently though, her feet have seen no enemies around the fort. No one really knows where they are, or even that they exist. Earth, most of the Fire Nation's dignitaries believe that she's been dead for almost ten years.

But no, at just a few months shy of twenty-two, she's still alive and kicking. Being totally blind since birth, her weakness that she's turned into her strength, she has no idea what anything looks like, not even her own physical appearance. She can feel that she's wiry with muscle from her years performing rebellious scams and heists, but she'll never know how black her mid-shoulder-length hair is, how a milky sheen covers her impossibly light green eyes, or how her facial features give her a kind of attractiveness that is rarely matched.

She's very slight in size, with slim shoulders and hips. Her slender body is wrapped in toned muscles and covered in miniscule scars from her years on the run. She is not as well-endowed nor developed as most women, but she unconsciously finds a way to be alluring in her own manner, even though she has no idea what she looks like and never really tries to attract that kind of attention to herself.

However, her aforementioned blindness has its perks. She'll never have to care about what she looks like or what the appearances of the people around her are. She'll never fuss over her hair, or constantly dust off her clothes, or complain about her body like most women do. She has no need, no desire to worry about appearances.

She knows who she is. Approval from others is unnecessary.

Sometimes, though, the eternal darkness can be lonely. She often finds herself thinking of her past: her fight for freedom that ended in painful failure, and, more often than not, she'd think of her friends and family.

She breathes out hard and runs a hand over her head, her slim fingers running through her bangs. Thinking of her friends and family makes her heart ache and her lungs tighten. Tears threaten to escape through the corners of her sightless eyes, so she wipes them with the heel of her calloused hand.

No.

She's rocklike. She won't cry tonight.

The serenity of the night continues; no hostile vibrations enter her 'sight'. She feels a group of ants moving around in their ant hill just fifteen feet away, carrying what is most likely food for their queen. A lone rabbit burrows into its hole for the night. Other than that, there's nothing.

She stiffens and raises her arms as a sudden set of vibrations enters her sight, followed by the creaking of the wooden doors of the fort. She instantly abandons her fighting stance; there's no need for it.

His footsteps are heavy, his feet still clad in thick leather boots. She frowns at the weight of his vibrations. For someone who turned eighteen just last month, his steps are too heavy, too weighted, and too grown-up to belong to one so young. Then she thinks back to her own childhood, back to how her everyday circumstances forced her to grow up faster than nature, or her parents, ever would have intended. She slowly understands his dense foot falls and lets her mouth return to a straight line.

He stands at average height for a man, just a quarter head taller than her, perhaps an inch or two over five foot eight. His chin is slightly unshaved and prickly. His medium brown hair is short and clean cut; it lies flat on his head as if it's held down by a substance that's unsure if it's a solid or a liquid, most likely due to his constant headgear. A forest green vest rests over his deep brown shirt, and a leather belt and hammer holster is slung around his waist. Hanging from his belt is a small bag containing many small spheres of blasting jelly to be ignited and thrown. His pants, baggy and a lighter shade of brown that his undershirt, are tucked into his bulky boots that are surely a size too big. He walks almost awkwardly due to either his large boots or his natural gait, so she never has trouble picking him out from a crowd.

He walks until he's next to her, a friendly distance apart but not too close. He speaks, his voice like that of a developing man, yet still containing a boyish tone. He sounds a bit exhausted.

"Must you stand out here every night?"

She doesn't smile as she replies, sounding just as tired as him, If not more so. "If it benefits my growing group of refugees, then yes, I must and I will."

Back when she was fighting the good fight, she tended to be more than a bit rough around the edges and quick with insults and blows, not to mention stubborn and easily irritated. Over the past decade, though, her fierce independence turned to fierce responsibility. Don't get her wrong, she's still as self-confident, sharp witted, and strong willed as ever, but with age brought intelligence, and with intelligence brought leadership.

He adjusts himself so that one of his hands rests on the handle of his war hammer. The position isn't threatening, but casual. "So starving yourself of sleep improves our quality of life?" He asks with a wry tone. "You're haplessly stubborn, Bei Fong. I hope you're fully aware of that."

A corner of her mouth finally rises. "Don't get smart with me, Tin Head. I could have you lynched faster than you can blink."

"Perhaps," she says in a joking tone, self-consciously adjusting his metal helmet. Even though he hasn't fought any firebenders since before his birthday, he hardly ever takes his helmet off, an act that granted him many headgear-related nicknames. "But you wouldn't want my blood on your hands. Plus, you still owe me for the whole puking-in-my-helmet thing, so I'm untouchable."

She says, "That was ten years ago, Helmet Boy. Besides, I've saved your sorry butt more times than I can count, so I think I've repaid that debt ten times over." She gives him a friendly punch on the arm, but he still winces at it's severity; she's much stronger than she looks.

This is how their relationship is every day: joking around, making fun, and almost no serious moments unless they absolutely can't be avoided. She finds it easier, almost simpler, to not let any particular person get too close to her. He dislikes it, but bears her lack of deep emotion, if for nothing else but her own sake.

Her grin slowly evaporating, she continues, "What about you, huh? Why don't you go to sleep?"

He fights off a yawn with his hand, unwilling to reveal how physically drained he actually is. "I'm here to relieve you of your constant guard duty, Saikhan's orders." He snaps with both hands at once, then wiggles his fingers at her like he's a magician conjuring up a spell. "There, you're free to go to sleep."

She holds back her snickering at his ridiculous hand gestures. Over the years, her 'sight' has improved enough so that she can sense such motions. "All right," she yawns, "You drive a hard bargain, Duke."

He takes a second to respond, a bit bewildered by the sound of his real name coming from her mouth. As she walks away, he corrects her, saying, "It's _the _Duke." Although he tries to sound convincing, the duke really doesn't care what she calls him.

She doesn't reply as she strides proudly back into the fortress, head held high, as always. He watches the slight bob of her bun, her stiff arms swaying in their default, confident way, and the almost unnoticeable movement of the hips she unconsciously hides under long shorts and a mid-length sleeved tunic.

He knows that he's stupid to look at her this way; she has sworn many times over that she'll never marry or have children while Ozai is reigning, and being that the rebel forces have been dwindling since they first formed, there won't be a change in governing any time soon.

But he can't help it. He's eighteen years old and in constant contact with a very powerful and fetching woman in her early twenties. What is he supposed to do? Avert his eyes every time she walks passed? Avoid talking to her? That'd be impossible; he's one of her only friends in this misery-stricken world. He tries, but he's weak. He can't help himself; when he sees her, an inside force pulls him towards her. It's powerful, influential, and starving, but mostly, it's unanswered. He knows how she actually feels about him; it's similar to how any girl would treat her younger brother.

He finds himself frowning.

For now, at least, he'll just have to live with his unanswered feelings and yearnings, no matter how much it hurts.

"Wait," he calls. She stops walking. "Are you planning on, you know, _heading into town _tomorrow?"

She doesn't turn around, per normal; she can't see him. She just lets a seemingly delicate hand rest on a lone strip of fabric, one end tucked securely into the thin space between her belt and her hip. It's soft under her fingers and beautiful to his eyes. The silk is a torn bit of an old dress from a forgotten life.

Her forgotten life.

Then, the deformed silk triangle was part of her metaphorical cage, keeping her locked up in a home full of expensive things that she'd never wanted or needed. Now, it keeps her true identity a secret, effectively keeping her free and allowing her to stay alive. Funny how something can turn from confining to liberating by being torn from a dress and an even more ravaged memory.

"Yes," she replies, her voice a bit hoarse. "I am. I'll be leaving at dawn. Let Saikhan know for me."

"Of course." He then turns away from her and towards the surrounding forest, immersing himself in his guard duty.

She continues her stride, but her shoulders are a bit lower. Her hand clenches the triangular fabric, clutching the final connection to a little girl who lovede to be rebellious. A child who had a set goal and future.

A little girl who, though she resented them at times, still had parents.

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**Until next week (or possibly earlier, it depends), keep on reading and reviewing, favorite and follow if it pleases you to, and my PM inbox is waiting for your messages.**

**~CCC16 **

**P.S., I know that Saikhan is the name of a character in The Legend of Korra, though whether it's his first or last name I'm not sure, mostly because they called Lin "Chief Bei Fong" and they call him "Chief Saikhan", so I'm thinking it's his last name. You want an early hint on how the Saikhan I wrote of fits into my story? PM me and ask!**


	3. Chapter 3: Nighttime Terrors

**Thank you again to my reviewer from Brazil! It was so cool to hear from you! YOU ROCK!**

**So here's chapter 3, which I affectionately call "Blasts from the Past"**

**Disclaimer: Not yet, Bryke. Not Yet.**

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_Chapter 3: Nighttime Terrors_

_He runs as fast as physically possible. Ozai's fire is all but nipping at his heels, so he pushes himself even harder. He pants nonstop as he jumps over rubble and sidesteps rocks, doing just about anything to avoid being burned alive. Even when his body can't take it anymore, he keeps on running. The world starts to spin as his breaths come in shallow gasps. His feet start to fall either too early or too late, making him trip over almost everything. When he starts to see black spots around him, he finally gives in to his screaming muscles and curls up into a ball of solid earth._

_From somewhere outside his shield of rock, a prematurely victorious Ozai booms, "You're weak! Just like the rest of your people! They didn't deserve to live in this world! In __**my**__ world! Prepare to join them! Prepare to __**DIE**__!_

_A ball of fire hits one side of his rock sphere with the force of a meteor. Then another hits the other side. Then back. Over and over and over._

_Ozai is determined. Determined and merciless._

_Aang is stuck. The temperature inside his protective sphere is rising exponentially by the second. The blazing fire outside is almost unbearable as it relentlessly rams into the rock. He keeps his face contorted in concentration as sweat slides down his back, his neck, and his arms._

"_Come on out, Avatar! You can't hide in there forever!"_

_He tries to keep his one-man fortress from caving in, but his strength is dwindling. His arm starts to shake. The air around him gets even hotter. He groans from a mixture of pain and exertion._

_He's losing._

_He keeps on thinking '__**Avatar state! Avatar state! Roku! Kyoshi! Where are you? I need help! Yangchen! Kuruk!**__', but no one is answering his mental calls. In his hour of unbelievable need, the spirits have chosen to be silent._

_He's alone._

_Somewhere amongst the sweat that floods down his face, he releases a few silent tears. For a few moments, Ozai's maniacal laughter is drowned out by Aang's inner shame._

"_I'm sorry," he whispers to no one and the whole world all at once. "I really tried. I'm sorry."_

_Somehow mustering up the ability to move more than an inch, he pushes his arms and legs out with a sudden force, launching the remainder of his rock sphere at his adversary. Ozai takes a few steps back, covering his face with his arms to avoid injury. Aang uses the few moments that Ozai is unfocused to his advantage. He whips his arms forward and sends Ozai tumbling through the air with a strong gust of wind. Then he turns and runs like he's never ran before._

_Ozai lands in a bruised heap about twenty feet away, but his crooked smile is still adhered to his face. "That's right!" He yells after Aang's retreating figure as he stands up. "Run away, __**little boy**__," he continues with a sneer. "Never come back! Never stop running! If you do, I'll find you! If I find you, I'll have your head!" He ends his rant with a triumphant roar of laughter._

_Aang tries to ignore him. Tries to ignore the fact that all of his training was for nothing. Tries to ignore the realization that he's given up. He lost. He let his friends down. He let the world down._

_He failed._

"_You are nothing, Avatar! __**Nothing!**__"_

_He speeds himself up with airbending. It's all over. He'll never see any of his friends again, most likely. They could already be dead. He'd never know._

"_You were a fool to challenge me! I am the __**PHOENIX KING**__!"_

Aang shoots up into a sitting position, the swift movement making his bed shake furiously. He clutches frantically at his bare chest as he gasps for air, Ozai's voice echoing inside his head. He tries to remember where he is.

The nightmare is always the same, yet waking up from it never gets any better.

When he manages to stabilize his over stimulated body, he sighs deeply. He should have overcome his irrational fears of Ozai by now. He should have gotten over his friends painfully-likely deaths by now. But he can't. He's terribly afraid. He's horribly torn apart.

His past pulls at him until his conscious is ripped to shreds, then devours him slowly as he's forced to live through his loss to Ozai over and over. The possible ways his friends may have died flood into his mind and overcome him.

He's transported to a waking-dream sequence. He sees Azula frying Katara with a bolt of white hot lightning. He sees Toph being swallowed by crackling red flames. He sees Sokka being thrown from an air ship by men clad in red armor, their faces covered by masks resembling skeletal skulls. He sees an exhausted and bound Zuko at Azula's knees as she fires lighting through his head at point-blank range. He sees Suki losing a hand to hand battle with a Fire Nation soldier, then watches as he finishes her with his spear.

He can't take it. He must be losing his mind. He's practically raving. He's turning into a lunatic.

But he needs to pull it together; Kuzon has work today.

Aang's fears will have to wait.

"_Hold on, Toph!"_

"_Aye-aye, captain!"_

_She clutches to Sokka's wrist like it's her lifeline. Maybe it is, considering that fact that she'll fall down to spirits-know-what if she lets go. She can't see how far off the ground they are. It can't be more than a few hundred feet, but it's daunting for her to think about. She holds onto him even tighter. She'd always wondered if she and Sokka would ever hold hands. But she never thought it'd be in an imminent death situation._

_Sokka holds onto her wrist just as tight. She hears him muttering to himself, probably wondering where Suki is, if she's okay._

_Toph suddenly hears Sokka grunt, then the sound of his boomerang slicing through the air, followed by then the frightened yell of one and eventually another firebender as they fall from the ship. Sokka says a sorrowful goodbye to his space sword. The wind brushes through her bangs like a caress, almost a peaceful invitation to the spirit world. Just one thought crosses her mind:_

_**I'm going to die today.**_

_Suddenly, Sokka's hand tenses. She hears the sound of feet hitting the metal of the ship's walkway. She'll never know how many enemy soldiers were threatening them, just the fact that it was too many._

_Her hand slips from his, but he catches her with his fingers. He curls them around hers as securely as possible._

"_I don't think boomerang is comin' back, Toph."_

_She feels her cheeks wetting as tears fall from her eyes. Her hair stings as it whips against her skin._

"_It looks like this is the end."_

_Her miniscule feet dangle in thin air. Sokka grunts in pain, from his injured leg or his overly-stretched arm, she has no idea. A sudden thought pops into her head._

"_Sokka?" she yells just loud enough so he can hear her over the inexorable wind. _

"_Yeah?" He sounds tired. He's weakening._

_Her voice falters a bit as she asks, "How far off the ground are we?"_

"…_About 250 feet, why do you as-…No! Toph, no! Do you hear me?!"_

_She considers her options. Fall to an almost certain death, or be captured by soldiers and probably tortured. _

"_I have to!" She calls back up. "You can get out of this, but not unless I let go!" The idea haunts her. There are only two thing she's afraid of in the entire world: drowning, and falling, literally, blindly through the sky. _

"_Toph! __**NO! **__You're acting crazy!" He tries to readjust his hand so he's gripping hers fully to prevent her from slipping away, but he can't. She can hear the soldiers talking amongst themselves, probably figuring out their imprisonment._

_A few more tears slip from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sokka. It's not your fault."_

_And she lets go._

_The sensation she experiences is one she'll never forget. At first she feels like she's flying, like she's carelessly floating through the air. Then reality barges in and smacks her right across the face._

_She's falling. She's falling __**very **__fast._

_The wind hits her like it did before, but now it's even more ferocious and is coming from below, hitting her at a thousand points with insane force. She opens her mouth and waits, but her frightened shriek never escapes her lips. She's falling too fast. She's too terrified to scream as she plummets down to the Earth. _

_Wait. Earth._

_She struggles to adjust her body until she's falling almost headfirst, then extends her hands and waits. She can feel a slight tug from below her. If she has guessed correctly, it's not gravity calling her; it's her element._

_The earth is waiting. She can make it catch her._

_The tug turns to a pull. The pull turns to a yank. She's getting closer, but her fear never decreases._

_She opens her palms and thinks about sand. Thinks about pulling the sand up to act as a soft basket for her to safely fall into. Thinks about not falling to her death. She can hear a slight rustling beneath her. She falls closer and closer to the sound. She falls through the air, falls down and down until she finally makes conta-_

"AH!" She sits up so fast that her forehead bangs into the roof of her earth tent. The ground in camp rumbles and shakes like a low-level earthquake, most likely her doing. She rubs her forehead and mutters obscenities.

The nightmares never differ. It always starts with her clinging to Sokka's hand, then ends abruptly with her about to hit the ground after free-falling through the sky.

She runs a hand over her face, exhausted even though she'd just slept.

"Toph?"

She senses the vibrations before she hears the voice. The woman is poking her head into Toph's tent, wearing a concerned frown that Toph will never see. Toph collapses her tent and stretches her arms above her head.

"It's fine, Saikhan. Go worry somewhere else." She waves her off with a hand and yawns. One of her hands finds the piece of silk wedged into her belt.

Saikhan puts one hand on her hip and leans her weight to that side. "I actually came to see you off, but if you _want_ me to worry about the earthquake you just caused…" Now her tone is sarcastic, something Toph can appreciate. Saikhan sniggers to herself.

"Shut your trap, Sai," Toph says with an authoritative punch to her shoulder.

The taller woman retaliates similarly, then suddenly composes herself. She brushes off her sleeveless tunic and long shorts and says, "Other than seeing you off, I have some news from the group."

Toph starts to walk to the exit of the fortress and motions for Saikhan to follow her. "Go on, I'm listening."

"Well," she starts, "The parents are requesting that we bring back more milk than last time, as we have more young children running around, and the older kids want more fruit. The earthbenders are mostly fine," she acquires a sly smirk and continues, "but we're still waiting on that bottle of fire whiskey you promised. Oh, and the hunting party has just returned."

Toph ties the piece of silk around her face, covering the bridge of her nose and below. Her voice is muffled slightly by the cloth as she replies, "Thanks, Saikhan. Give Smellerbee and Longshot my regards and make sure to save some of whatever they caught on their hunting trip for you and the other earthbenders." Her voice sounds almost strange in her ears. It possesses an administrative tone, something that is practically foreign to her.

"What's the matter with us today?" Saikhan asks absentmindedly, voicing Toph's internal ponderings. "We sound so…formal."

Toph smirks under her silk half-mask, the crinkling skin next to her eyes the only sign of that fact. "Maybe it's because we're old."

The statement is only half a joke. In Ozai's world, many Earth Kingdom refugees don't make it to their sixteenth birthday.

Saikhan laughs anyway. It's a light, careless, and slightly playful sound. "Maybe." She stretches her arms above her head and yawns. "Or maybe we're just mentally unstable."

"That sounds more likely."

Saikhan chuckles again and leaves Toph's side when they make it to the wooden doors. She's about to close them behind Toph when she adds, "Just don't go and get killed on me today. I don't think I could handle suddenly having to lead all of these people through this hell we call refugee life."

Toph clicks her tongue as she walks away. She calls over her shoulder, "Don't worry Saikhan. Today I'm collecting a small haul, so there'll be minimal danger involved. You're position as second-in-command is perfectly safe."

Saikhan closes the doors behind her leader, flinching inwardly at the ugly sound they make as they slide closed, a strange sense of foreboding creeping up her spine.

* * *

**That's not an awkward ending what are you talking about.**

**Lol, **_**whut**_**.**

**Anways, back to that question I shaved for y'all:**

**What do you think of Azula? Do you like her better as a passive—aggressive, psychopathic bitch, or would you like her as a late addition to the Gaang and to suddenly get along with her brother? I'm kind of neutral to all that jazz, so I'm asking you all to share your Azula feels with me, either by review or PM. Your opinions may influence my story.**

_**But then again they might not**_**. **

**Anyway, talk to me about Azula! I JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU'RE FEELING.**

**~CrossCountryChick16**

**P.S. I promise you some slight, semi-Taangy goodness in the next chapter, but with a slight twist *insert evil grin here*. Also, most of the chapters from here on out should be a bit longer than the first three. Cut me some slack, though; the first three chapters were primarily for introductory purposes. I mean, c'amon (;D), 2000 words is 2000 words, no matter how you slice it. I think that's decent size for am intro chapter, but then again, what does my opinion matter? It's not like I wrote the story or anything.**

**Wait a minute.**

**P.P.S. (~) means either the beginning or end of a dream sequence, and (***) means a slight break in the story, if you couldn't guess their meanings.**

**P.P.P.S. See that little comment box below this chapter? You might need to scroll down to see it, but I promise you it's there. Once you find it, fill it up with some words and leave me a review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Familiar Strangers Part 1

**Can I just tell you all that I love you with the entirety of my heart?**

**I can't put into words how awesome it is that you fanfictioners like my story idea. Like, seriously, you guys rock.**

**Oh, God. I think I might tearbend all over my computer.**

**Anyway, here's chapter 4. Thanks again for loving my story and for all the new reviews/followers!**

**Disclaimer: As far as I know, I don't own ATLA**

* * *

_Chapter 4: Familiar Strangers Part 1_

The air in the mine is even more fetid than usual, a mixture of coal dust, smoke, and the sweat of the workers. His headband is drenched with perspiration after hours of exhausting work underground. The other men around him aren't doing much better, but they at least have the liberty of wearing sleeveless shirts. He, however, is stuck in a long sleeved shirt, confined by the danger of being captured by the Fire Nation, or worse, the Phoenix King himself.

Again and again he slams his pickaxe against the rock, digging deeper and deeper as the days go on. He pulls his arms up despite his burning muscles, grunts in withheld pain, then brings the tool down with a crash. The mine around him is a chorus of grunts, crashes, and the occasional bark of a manager.

He lets his pickaxe fall into his left hand and raises his right to wipe his damp forehead, internally wishing for his bending.

"Hey!" The call comes from a few yards behind him. He doesn't turn around; he already knows who's yelling at him. "Get on back to work!" He can picture the obnoxious mustache above the pompous sneer, all wrapped up in a bossy red jacket and pants.

He sighs quietly and raises his pickaxe again. He closes his eyes and allows himself to drown in his thoughts. His mind is the only place where he can finally escape the tight grip of his superiors and the dying world around him. His thoughts can liberate him, taking him places his current situation would never allow. For now, only three words float around his head:

_I hate it here._

Opening his eyes, he brings the pickaxe down again, silently wishing to go back in time and fix his mistakes, quietly hoping for a chance to redeem himself.

0o0

She wonders if the shop keeper knows how predictable he's acting.

"P-please! Just take my money! Don't h-h-hurt me!"

They always start out angry and protective, standing between her and their goods as if they mean more than their own lives. Once they realize they stand absolutely no chance against her, they start to get pathetic, babbling incessantly and begging for their own safety. Today, the pottery maker is no different than the rest. She could almost roll her eyes at his deplorable behavior, that is, if she knew how.

She tightens her grip on the man's apron and raises a threatening rock over his head. "Works for me," she replies with a snarky smile. It's hidden under her silk half-mask, but the merchant can easily imagine it. "Now make with the coins; I don't have all day."

With a brisk nod and a frightened expression, the man slowly moves his hand to the coin pocket on his waist. He's a portly, well-groomed man, a dead giveaway of the fact that he in no way lives in poverty. His mobile shop is full of exotic bowls and vases which he tried offering her before. She, however, made it quite obvious what she's actually after.

The mixture of gold, silver, and copper pieces jingle as she pulls the coin sac from his hands. She shakes it next to her ear, grins in success, then throws the shop keeper onto the ground behind the counter, breaking a few pieces of pottery in the process. "Pleasure doing business with you."

She hops off the main counter of the pottery buggy, shattering even more bowls, then turns and runs down the street, coin bag in hand. No one pursues her.

Sometimes, being a thief is just too easy.

The life that comes with it, though, is not quite simple.

Every member of her band of refugees has refused to live under Phoenix King Ozai's and Fire Lord Azula's rules, so they must live in secret, stealing to survive and trading when necessary. Almost all of them have tasted the wrath of firebenders; not even her family was spared. All the money in the world can't stop a Fire Nation assassination mission.

She stops running long enough to catch her breath. She crouches behind a wall, hiding herself within an alley.

Perhaps that's all her life is: running, stealing, stopping momentarily for air, then running again.

She releases a heavy breath and rubs her forehead, her responsibilities briefly forgotten.

Maybe ten years is enough. Maybe she should stop running away.

Soon.

"Thief! She went that way! Get her!"

But not today.

0o0

Something other than the normal stench seems to be flowing through the air of the cave today. Desperation is always there, in their minds and moving swiftly to their muscles. Today, however, something else is flying about, something that can only be described as prophetic yet full of premonition. His gut tells him that the feeling should be ignored, as it must be dangerous. His mind, however, takes in the sense of apprehension and transforms it into hope.

Something good will happen today.

Reenergized by his positive thinking, Aang attacks his work with a newfound vigor. His pickaxe moves much faster than usual and hits the mine wall with almost more force than necessary. He becomes so absorbed in his actions that he almost forgets his worries and doubts, allowing himself to feel much better than he has in a long time. A smile is trying to force its way onto his lips; today will be a good day.

"Sheng! Move it, man!"

Maybe he was wrong.

The sound of crumbling rock follows the startled yell, sounding much too loud in his ears and echoing through the mine, yanking Aang from his thoughts . Aang looks over and sees that Sheng, his coworker, should have "moved it" a while ago. His pickaxe is still in his hand, his knuckles white as he holds it much tighter than necessary. He's mined too far into the wall; the rock sits above him like a very precarious overhang. He tries to move, but even the slightest movement makes a few more rocks go clattering to the cave floor.

If Sheng moves too much, he'll be lost under a pile of rubble. He needs serious help. _Now._

Aang acts faster than he thinks.

He drops his pickaxe so fast he doesn't even notice that he loosened his grasp on the wooden handle. The clatter of the tool hitting the floor turns even more heads towards the men gathering around Sheng, and even more men watch as Aang breaths deeply, sets his feet and punches his fist forward.

Sheng's rock prison flies backwards with a force so sudden he falls onto his behind. His life has been spared, he realizes that first. Then he notices the new gaping hole in the mine wall behind him, and the fact that his coworker Kuzon, quiet, supposed non-bender Kuzon, just earthbent the wall.

He says nothing; none of the miners do. Even the managers are silent. Nobody has seen earthbending in years.

Then the fire and accusations start to fly.

"Get him!"

"Criminal!"

"Traitor!"

"Disobeying Azula!"

Aang has to duck to avoid the first blast of fire one of the guards had aimed at his head. Another flies at his side, and his shirt is singed as he just barely slides out of the way. Only now does he realize the consequences of his actions.

He's ruined his fake life, he knows that. Strange thing is, he's never felt more alive.

He doesn't hesitate to launch earth cuffs at the nearest guard, making his hands stuck to the wall of the mine. Aang raises an earth slab to deflect an oncoming fire ball, then kicks the slab into his attacker, earning himself a satisfying "Oof!". His movements are slightly awkward and jerky, a sign that he's very out of practice.

Three years of living as a non-bender can do that to a person.

After burying another guard knee-deep in rock, Aang turns on his heels and runs as fast as he can towards the entrance to the cave. Through the heat in the mine, wind in his ears, and fear in his mind, he can hear a few cheers and whoops from the men he runs past. The sound is almost inaudible under his pounding heartbeat, but he can just barely hear their excited yells.

He's given them some sort of inspiration. A rebellious, life-threatening inspiration, but an inspiration nonetheless.

He smiles a bit as he runs, quite beside himself. Perhaps his chance to help the world hasn't evaded his grasp.

The managers are gaining fast. There must be five of them left, and three or four more at the entrance to the mine. He'll just have to escape before they can call the police and have him arrested. What he'll do after that, he has no idea.

One of his pursuers yells, "Stop! You'll never escape!"

"Oh, really?" Aang chortles over his shoulder, panting around his words. "Isn't that what I'm doing?"

He can finally see the light that signifies his exit. He runs even faster, much like he did ten years ago, except this time, he feels like he's running in the opposite direction.

Aang bursts into the sunlight, squinting and flinching slightly at the sudden brightness around him. By the time his eyes have almost adjusted to the light, he's been encircled by at least eight guards. He raises his hands to them and breaths the fresh air in deeply. A few of the coal miners have poked their heads out of the cave entrance, many of them shielding their eyes from the sunlight.

After what feels like an eternity, the nearest manager launches himself at Aang. He's a short, stocky man with bushy eyebrows and sideburns. Aang raises his hand to strike the furry-faced man, but something else hits the guard first.

The rock smacks into his stomach and sends him flying backwards into the ground, but the stone that was launched was much more well-aimed than Aang could have managed in his current state. He looks back at the other workers with a raised eyebrow. One of them acquires a ridiculous expression and shrugs. Another points at a spot just twenty feet behind Aang, his finger visibly shaking.

"Come now, ladies. Eight against one? Is that really fair?"

Aang's head whirls around just as the voice slips through his ears. It's high pitched, slightly laughing, and very mocking in tone. His first glimpse of the speaker confirms his initial conclusion.

It's a woman.

"I mean, seriously," she speaks again, and he notices now that it's muffled under the fabric that covers the lower half of her face. She's not very large, even though her mouth has exceeded usual standards. She has jet black hair that's held at bay by a green and yellow headband, a few thin strands falling out to curtain her face. The realization hits him like a tidal wave.

It's the woman from the wanted poster, the Silent Landslide. His heart almost drops at the sight of her; she's just as familiar to him as her image on the wanted poster.

The managers have turned their attention to the Landslide now, fists raised and eyes narrowed. They would almost look threatening if their knees weren't visibly shaking. Many of them are trying to give her menacing glares, but very few are succeeding. The woman laughs, the sound a mixture of twinkling bells and an evil cackle.

A corner of Aang's mouth rises at her laughter. The laugh is lovely and deadly at the same time.

"Stay where you are!" The largest firebender addresses the woman in a semi-authoritative voice, though it's still terribly evident that he's close to soiling his uniform. "Don't move, or we'll attack!"

The Landslide covers her face with her hands and pretends to cower in fear. "Oh, no!" Sarcasm drips from her words. "D-d-don't attack me!" Then, with a snort and a flick of her wrist, the man is up to his neck in rock.

Aang can't believe how confident in herself the criminal can act. Most people who steal to live keep to themselves and very rarely start fights unless they absolutely must.

She slides her bare feet across the ground and raises her hands, palms facing towards herself.

"Are you fire lilies going to attack first, or are you going to be all chivalrous and give me the honors?"

The men hesitate for just half a second.

But she doesn't.

She kicks three head-sized rocks at the nearest group of managers, sending two of them backwards into a groaning heap. Another three run at her with hands ablaze, but as she slides her foot the ground under them shifts, making them loose their footing. She punches forward twice, once with her hands closed and once with her palms open, and the three men fly through the air for a good twenty feet before hitting the ground with painful-sounding thuds. The last two hang back, not really in the mood to literally bite this woman's dust, but she is obviously losing her patience. She stomps down hard with her right foot, making two rock spikes shoot up from the ground, hitting one guard in the chest and the other in the chin, most likely breaking their ribs and jaw, respectively.

After the last of the managers fall to the ground, all of them obviously incapacitated, the Landslide walks up until she's about five feet from Aang. She shifts her feet, sighs shortly and puts her hands on her hips. "Well that was less fun than I thought it would be," she says, sounding disappointed. She doesn't turn her head towards him when she adds, "Thanks for helping, by the way."

From this distance, Aang can tell that her eyes are some kind of light green. Her skin is even paler than his, practically white. He half smiles at her comment, watching her face intently.

"It didn't really seem like you needed any help," he replies kindly, interested in speaking to her but still very wary around her, despite the fact that the crown of her head just barely reaches his chin. She wears no Fire Nation colors whatsoever, though the accenting of her high-collard yellow tunic does come close to gold. The sleeveless tunic hangs loosely over the brown cloth belt tied just above her natural waist. Yellow fabric hangs under her belt almost like a skirt, but opens like an upside-down "V" under the center of her waist. A brown slip of cloth hangs from the opening of the yellow fabric, both of which hang over her loose-fitting green shorts. Basic line patterns adorn the yellow and brown fabrics, coinciding with the outfit quite nicely.

"Very true," she responds easily. Her long bangs blow slightly in the wind, enough for him to see the crinkling skin next to her eyes, the only evidence of her hidden smile. He silently wishes that she would pull her mask off.

Aang holds his right hand out to her and prepares to introduce himself. As he steps toward her, he could swear he sees her eyes widen in a bizarre mixture of shock and recognition. His hand wavers, but he decides to ignore her reaction.

Despite his usual keep-to-himself attitude, Aang finds himself instantly trusting this woman. However, there's no real reason to tell her who he really is. Spirits only know what kind of trouble she gets herself and could get him into. "Nice to meet you, I'm Ku-."

"I don't do names, Tender-foot," she interrupts hotly. As if that isn't enough, she doesn't even respond to his outstretched hand, almost like she didn't notice it. Instead, she waves a hand over her shoulder and starts to walk away.

Aang half-curls his fingers and returns his hand to his side, slightly taken aback, by the nickname as well as her sudden departure. He sputters idiotically, not really sure what he should be saying; he has no reason to continue their conversation, but he doesn't want her to just leave. He, for some reason, wants to know her beyond the wanted posters and sarcastic jabs. Really deep down, though, he feels like he already does.

He raises a hand and opens his mouth to call to her, but he's at a loss again. What should he call her? _Woman_? _Landslide_? _Criminal_? None seem very respectful.

He can feel words bouncing on the edge of his tongue, but she's just getting farther and farther away.

All at once, she stops walking.

She turns her head back just slightly, so he can see the side of her face. Her bangs cover her skin almost entirely, shielding her expression.

"Well, you coming?"

Having suddenly lost any ability to speak, Aang just points to his chest stupidly. A lone word finally leaks from his throat:

"Me?"

The wind blows by, and he sees the skin next to her visible eye wrinkle. "No, the rock next to you." She waves her hand again, and he now realizes that she's beckoning him to follow her. "Yes you, idiot. The police should be here any second, and they won't be too happy to see that two illegal earthbenders whipped those lily livers into next week. Catch my drift?" She doesn't wait for him to catch up before she starts walking again.

Aang hesitates for a moment. Should he really trust this woman, a wanted criminal?

Then again, where else is he to go? He can't exactly go back home after his little display in the mine.

Aang smiles goofily and finds his feet, walking fast until he's in step with the Landslide again. He admires the way she walks with a proud swagger; he as a person has been very void of self-confidence lately.

The strange feeling of hope reenters his stomach and grows dramatically. This girl must have been destined to drag him from his below average life as Kuzon Rai, he's sure of it.

He blinks, becoming aware of the fact that he hasn't believed in destiny since he was a child. Throughout his life on the run, he'd thought that destiny was child's play, fabricated by adults in order to give children something false to look forward to in their lives. How could he not think this way? After all, his _destiny_ certainly didn't play out well.

A sound of commotion comes from the mine, and Aang sees some of the men hooting and hollering at the Landslide.

"Hey, sweetheart!"

"Take me too!"

"I'm an earthbender!"

A few of them guffaw and slap their palms together, and almost all of them are wolf-whistling. The Landslide chuckles breathily.

"How cute." Then, faster than Aang can comprehend, she spins on one foot and slams the other down hard, making a large hole open up underneath the other workers. Their screaming as they fall sounds very similar to that of frightened little girls and ends abruptly with a thud. The Landslide laughs a little louder this time. "But unwanted."

Aang snickers inwardly at her joke.

"So," he starts once she starts to walk again. He has to walk slower so that his large steps don't surpass her much smaller ones. "Where, exactly, are you taking me?"

She simply shrugs as she guides him from the rocky canyon to the entrance to a forest. "You know how Earth Kingdom refugees sometimes come together and make camps so they can be safe from the Fire Nation?"

Aang cocks his head to the side just a bit. He subconsciously notices that there's no trail in the forest, yet the Landslide is having no trouble moving about. Her bare feet never miss a step, never make her fall over herself, and skirt easily around obstacles. "Yeah," he replies, sounding curious. "Is this camp like that?"

A smile is evident in her voice as she says, "Not the safe part." she makes a sound of withheld laughter. "But a lot of us are good for a laugh."

Despite the fact that he should be very nervous around her, he smiles.

As they walk farther and farther into the forest, Aang's subconscious is suddenly buzzing with questions. "Does your group associate with the rebel forces?"

Her face hardens significantly. "…in a way."

"Are you nomadic?"

"No, there's too many of us. We'd be discovered if we were moving constantly." Her voice is slow now, like she's hesitating to give away any crucial information.

Aang falls behind despite his longer legs. He watches her continue walking, one question in particular burning a hole in his mind.

"What's your real name?" This time he inquires in a humble tone, much quieter than he had before. His mind is burning, sure that it could answer that question itself.

Why is she so familiar? As far as he knows, he's never met this woman in his entire life. He knew a girl like her once, but…

Aang swallows. That girl is dead; he's accepted that fact and moved on, or at least he's tried to.

Finally, she halts her stride. Her hands find her hips and she taps her foot impatiently. "I have no desire to answer that question." The fact that half of her face is covered becomes suddenly more evident. Aang realizes how little he actually knows about her. His gut tells him to take a step back, but instead he takes a tentative step forward.

"But-"

"No," she retorts harshly. "For my safety and yours, no."

"I don't-"

"_Shut up_, okay!" She whirls around and pulls him down by his shirt. He grits his teeth at her random emotion change as well as their sudden closeness. He can see now that her eyes are more than a light green; their practically milky. "Before I launch you into outer space, _stop talking_." She releases his shirt and pushes him backwards, muttering something about nosy men under her breath.

Aang doesn't follow after her. He understands her hostility with a sudden jolt. Of course she won't share her real identity with him yet; they've barely exchanged words, and less than half of them were kind. It would be weird if she _didn't_ distrust him.

"If you don't trust me," he begins when he starts to walk again. "Why are you helping me?"

The Landslide doesn't turn around, but her feet do come to a stop. She clenches her fist, and the ground shakes just a bit. "Because I know what it likes to be ignored when I needed help," she mumbles almost unwillingly. She blinks and turns her head away, an unexpected sound of remembrance coming from her throat. Aang's natural helpfulness rises inside him, making his hand visibly shake as he fights the urge to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She suddenly whips her head around so she's facing him. Aang shuffles back a bit, covering his shirt collar from her just in case. He can imagine her angry glare as she adds with a spit, "You'd do well not to test my patience, Airhe-" she stops suddenly, like she's catching herself. She raises a menacing finger, opens her mouth to utter a venomous insult, but decides to just turn and continue down the invisible path. He hears her grumble incoherently, but one sentence carries to his ears quite clearly:

"Stupid light-footed idiot."

He just observes the movement of her back as she stalks away. The ground shivers with each of her heavy steps, no doubt due to her anger. Aang ponders her words and actions, wondering why she'd stopped herself mid-sentence, and why she seems to bet dead-set on insulting him.

"Hey!"

Landslide's sudden bark drags him from his thoughts and makes him jump a few inches into the air.

"Move it or lose it back there!"

He pumps his arms to catch up faster, but decides to stay behind her by a few feet, just for safety reasons.

She continues to lead him to the camp she'd spoke of, but they don't say another word. Through the entire rest of the trip, from walking through shallow rivers and over fallen trees, not another word is spoken. Aang holds his tongue due to fear, and the woman would surely say something if she cared enough to.

Left alone due to her refusal to speak, Aang's mind starts to put the pieces together. Her appearance struck him as familiar first, then her snarky behavior, then her odd preference for nicknames rather than actual given names. He's positive that he could figure out who she is if she just removed the mask. He feels frustrated and bewildered, much like he had when his old friend Bumi had tested him so many years ago. Aang was at least given clues back then, but now he's completely in the dark.

"We're here."

She practically deadpans when she announces their arrival at the camp. Aang looks up, but all he sees is a humungous rock fortress. The grey rocks look like they were dropped from the sky by someone who couldn't care less how odd they looked. There are no tents, no campfires, no nothing. Then he notices a haphazardly shaped wooden door in the shadow of the mini-mountain.

"Home sweet home?" He jokes cautiously, his words followed quickly by a nervous laugh. He looks back to where the Landslide had been standing, but she's gone. He looks all around him, but she's nowhere to be seen.

"Uh, hello?"

"Hey there, pretty boy."

The male voice comes from the forest behind him, not very deep in tone but still threatening. Aang swivels around so fast he almost stumbles over himself, but sees no one.

"Over here, Headband."

This time the voice is right behind him, and it belongs to a woman. It isn't the Landslide, but it sounds very similar to the way she had spoken to the mine managers: condescending and laughing. Aang turns slowly around, raising his fists in a sad attempt at a fighting stance.

Aang wishes that he could say the first thing he notices about her is her frighteningly-dark green eyes, but he can't.

A deep maroon burn runs from just below her right eye, down the lower half of her nose, and continues all the way down to her neck and possibly to her shoulder, looking similar to thick claw marks. The edges of the scar are jagged, almost sharp looking. The girl is nineteen if she's a day, so young and cursed with such a horrible scar, the only blemish on what could be a very pretty face. The younger woman notices where he's looking with a sneer, making her reddened skin crinkle.

"I see you've noticed my face," she spats, narrowing her forest eyes at him. Her gaze is so cold and unforgiving, something he never could have expected from a woman of her age. She flicks her wrists, making a rock encasement surround him and pull him to his knees.

Another earthbender. Fantastic.

The girl bends down so her face is level with his. "Nice to meet you too, jerk." She smiles wide in victory, all of her teeth perfectly intact.

"Drop the tough act, Saikhan."

Oh, look who's back.

The rocks surrounding Aang fall to the ground, most likely the Landslide's doing. The scarred girl, Saikhan, looks up at the speaker somewhere behind Aang. Her face is hard at first, but a smirk eventually creeps onto her lips. "This thing yours?" she asks absentmindedly, poking Aang with her bare foot. Aang moves her foot away and pushes himself to his feet.

"Moderately," replies the Landslide with a wry tone. He looks over at her, and something holds his heart in a vice grip.

Her mask is off.

With it on, she'd been vaguely familiar. He could have possibly seen her in a crowd somewhere, or maybe passed her by on the street. But with it off, he feels like he's known her forever.

Her face is slim and pale, much like the rest of her body. With her mouth uncovered, he can at last see her face-wide grin.

The memories come tumbling down on him. The swamp vision. Their fight in the arena. Being captured by the other earthbenders, then having to fight their way out. Her running away from her family. Her teaching him all she knew about earthbending. Breaking into the Earth King's palace together. Hiding in the fire nation. Losing the invasion. Losing on the day of Sozin's Comet.

She's not dead.

Of course it's her. He could almost slap himself for being so ignorant. Her hairstyle should have tipped him off, and her attitude and bending ability should have been a dead giveaway.

Although, her farcical structure has changed dramatically since they were twelve. She looks so much like her mother, like any well-bred rich girl would grow up to look: simply beautiful.

Covered in dirt, yes, but that's beside the point.

He wishes he could voice his thoughts and show his bubbling elation, but he can't. He wishes he could gather her in a hug and thank the spirits that one of his friends survived that horrible day, but he can't. His throat is blocked by an invisible lump and his feet are rooted to the ground by some unseen force. All he can do is gawk at her in disbelief.

She's alive, and she's so different.

Then again, so is he.

Aang finally manages to tear his gaze from her when Saikhan chortles behind him.

"You have got a _whole_ lot of explaining to do, Bei Fong, starting with your lack of fire whisky."

* * *

**WOOOOOOO TAANG HAS BEGUN!**

**Yes, I know that all they've done is fight, but it'll get more Taangy as the story progresses, trust me.**

**Moreover, thank you for all of your suggestions about Azula! I quite liked the one about her taking happy pills ;P**

**Oh, and this is called Familiar Strangers ****Part 1**** because the next chapter will kick off right where this one ended, so I figure it could be a part 1 and 2 thing.**

**Lastly, keep on **_**reviewing**_**!**


	5. Chapter 5: Familiar Strangers Part 2

**Just so you know, I wrote this chapter while drinking a grape Slurpee and listening to "You Don't Belong" by Daughtry on loop after getting a shot and receiving a sparkly Band-Aid. **

**On another note, why are you guys being so silent? Having nobody respond in any way when I upload chapters makes me thing that you guys don't like what I wrote.**

**Okay, rant over.**

**Get ready for more (friendship)Taang! **

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

* * *

_Chapter 5: Familiar Strangers Part 2_

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Bei Fong, starting with your lack of fire whisky."

"That can wait."

Aang's eyes dart back to the woods behind Toph after the male voice returns. An average height man appears from the brush, a thick war hammer in his right hand. His face has a childish quality, making his stubble seem out of place. He looks like he could be anywhere from fifteen to nineteen. A dark green vest sits on his stocky shoulders, the color of it akin to that of Saikhan's irises. His puffy brown pants flow into his bulky boots. What sticks out mostly, though, is his headgear: a rusty brown helmet with a sliver of red fabric hanging out the back and sides like a hood.

He looks at Saikhan with slight contempt. "We have to get inside before anyone sees us out here."

Toph crosses her arms and turns her head towards the ground. "Chill out, Duke."

"It's _the D-_"

"Oh, can it," Saikhan butts into the conversation, giving him an even scarier glare than the one she gave Aang earlier. "If there were any firebenders around, Toph and I would know." Following her words is a short snort of laughter. "And your name sounds a little less ridiculous without the 'the', so why do you constantly correct everybody?"

Aang cocks his head to the side. The Duke? He hasn't seen him since the Day of Black Sun.

The Duke curls his hands harder around his hammer and starts to stalk towards her. "You want some, Scarface?"

Saikhan pushes her sleeves up and beckons to him with her fingers, though her eyes do flicker with an unnamable emotion when he mentions her scar. "Bring it, _Duke_," she taunts snidely.

With a guttural yell, the Duke runs straight at her, hammer above his head. Toph's hand suddenly shoots out and presses against his chest, keeping them separated.

"Would you two grow up?" She asks angrily. She pushes the Duke roughly and glares in Saikhan's general direction. "Spirits, you're like children."

The Duke grumbles angrily to himself as he returns his hammer to its holster on his right hip. "She started it," he mutters half to himself. To that, Toph knocks his helmet clean off his head. The Duke fumbles around for it, an almost panicked expression on his face.

"You really do need to can it," Toph asserts harshly, earning herself a snicker from Saikhan. She turns on her heels and starts walking towards the wooden doors, but not before punching Saikhan's shoulder, sufficiently putting an end to her laughter. "Get inside, both of you. We have a lot to discuss." The two teenagers follow along quickly, each making sure to stay far away from the other. Aang stays in his spot.

"You too, Coal Boy! Move it!" Toph barks loudly over her shoulder.

Aang's shoulders twitch in shock, then his feet start to move after the other three. Toph leads the way, her hands clasped behind her back. Aang looks at her intently, still trying to get over the shock of seeing her again after so many years. She had been one of his closest friends, now she seems like a complete stranger.

At the wooden door, Toph knocks her knuckles against the door with an intricate rhythm, and someone pulls them open from the inside. The Duke and Saikhan enter first, shoving each other when their shoulders bump together. Right as she's about to follow them, Aang catches Toph's wrist, just above her yellow and brown cuffs. She stiffens, her eyes narrowing.

"You have five seconds to let me go before I pummel you into the ground," she growls threateningly, almost convincing Aang to let her go.

"I just want to talk for a second," he says, sounding pathetic, nervous, and somewhat scared.

Toph's face softens for a moment. He shifts his feet awkwardly, and the odd look of recognition flashes across her face again. She pulls her wrist from his grasp. "You have about thirty seconds before you lose my interest," she conveys flatly. She waves her hand at the guards stationed inside the fortress and they close the doors. She turns back towards him and crosses her arms, trying and succeeding at looking bored.

Aang hesitates. He didn't think his reunions with his friends would be anything like this; actually, to be totally honest, he never thought that he'd ever see any of them again. Deep inside, though, he had dreamt of reuniting with them. In his mind, he would have no trouble recognizing them and could easily expose his true identity to them. Then they would come together like they used to in one of their group hugs, and everything would be all right, even if the feeling lasted only for that moment.

Yet here she is, Toph Bei Fong, right in front of him again after a decade of separation, and he's having trouble uttering his own name.

His tongue is tied into so many different knots. His lungs feel like they're being squeezed, and his heart is beating faster than it should. He knows that Toph can sense his racing heart, but he can't seem to hide it. Aang opens his mouth, but all that comes out is stale air. Out of ideas and at a loss for words, he decides to just show her.

He breathes in deeply with his nose, feeling his connection to the wind pulling at him from the outside, all but begging him to control the surrounding air. He raises his hand up, curls his fingers halfway and flicks them forward, releasing all of his anxiety, all of his pain, and all of his fear into a tiny air current.

The miniature tornado flies through the air slowly, the sound of the tiny zephyr cutting through the air being the only ambient noise. It hits her square in the face, but the force if it is very minimal, almost like a gentle breeze is brushing her bangs aside, but strong enough that she'll know it wasn't formed by nature. Toph breaths the bent air in and blinks casually.

She's not freaked out. She's not shocked. She's hardly even reacting to his display.

He remembers her shocked expression, her look of recognition, and the way she'd almost called him an airhead.

"You knew," he realizes with an impressed expression. Her perceptive feet must have recognized his every vibration.

She smirks in her defaulted way. "How could I not? You've got pretty distinct footsteps, Twinkletoes."

His heart skips at the sound of his old nickname. It brings on a wave of nostalgia, a flow of memories so powerful that he almost topples forward. After taking control of his flustered emotions, he takes a small step towards her, and to his delight, she doesn't move away. "But…why didn't you say anything?"

She makes a shrugging motion, her head facing the ground. "I was waiting for you to say something. I doubted who you were when you didn't instantly pull me into some kind of bone-crushing hug, but your vibrations eventually convinced me."

"I didn't recognize you until you took the mask-thingy off," he admits sheepishly. "You're so different now." He kicks absentmindedly at a rock near his feet.

Toph leans back a bit, an amused sound escaping her lips. "You didn't know who I was?" Her head cocks to the side. "I couldn't have changed that much."

But she has. Attitude and bending wise, no, but appearance wise, she's like a totally different person.

Aang doesn't voice his opinion. Instead, he says, "I guess I'm just that much of an idiot, huh?"

She laughs her unique laugh again, only this time the evil cackling half of it is absent. Aang's lungs tighten even more.

"You never were the most perceptive guy," she replies honestly, still chuckling around her words. He wishes that their wonderful moment of reunion could last forever, a never-ending spiral of inconceivable emotion and rekindled friendship.

He just now notices that he's been inching closer and closer to her. They only stand about two feet apart, him looking down at her and her head tilted down just a tad, as it always was and is. He kind of likes the way he stands a head taller than her; it gives him a sense of power that he never had when they were kids.

He thinks the last part of that sentence over: _when they were kids._

Where has the time gone?

One group of words pushes into the center of his mind: _It's been too long._

Then, by some unspoken agreement, they both step forward, closing the distance between them. His arms find their way around her back and hers around his. Their reunion is everything he'd ever dreamt of yet nothing he could have expected.

He holds her awkwardly at first, unsure of how to act. After a few moments in their timid embrace, though, he throws all uncertain feelings to the wind. This isn't a stranger he's embracing; it's one of his best friends.

He pulls her in tighter, holds her up so her feet are off the ground, then starts spinning around in giddy circles. She clutches the back of his shirt when her feet leave the ground and buries her head in the fabric of his tunic, hating the feeling of being truly blind, but bearing it for his sake.

"I can't believe it's really you!" He tells her excitedly as he moves them about, flying on an overjoyed, natural high. He says other things too, like "I've missed you" and "It's so good to see you", but he articulates his disbelief more often than not.

He breathes in her entire being, from her hair and skin to her sass and confidence. At one moment, he may or may not have airbent them a few inches into the air, just out of pure elation and joyful congregation.

Eventually, when he's had his fill of goofy behavior, he returns her to the ground. He holds onto her for a few more seconds, part of him believing that he'll lose her again if he lets go.

She lets him hug her for a little while longer before gently detaching herself from him. Then, not so gently, she punches him in the upper arm. He winces at the hit and rubs his arm, making her grin widely.

"Good to have you back, Twinkletoes."

0o0

"How many of them were there?"

"Two, but only one fought."

The Fire Nation admiral pinches the bridge of his nose in aggravation. He'd taken time off from his service and gone to Lu Ren for a mental break, but is instead stuck talking to one of the biggest imbeciles he's ever met.

"So you're telling me," he begins with an edge, "that nearly ten firebenders couldn't handle a coal miner and his female accomplice?"

"Actually," the mine manager says, adjusting his position in his seat and grunting at the pain in his chest. He must have broken at least three of his ribs. "The woman is a wanted criminal. She's been earthbending illegally and stealing money from shops all over town for almost two months now."

The admiral slams his fist down on the table. The lit candles around them blow up to the height of torches, the flames nearly licking the ceiling. "I don't care if she was the essence of earthbending itself," he declares, making the other man cower in fear. "She and her little friend should have been handled and apprehended!"

"I understand, sir, bu-"

"BUT WHAT?!" The flames bloom to the size of campfires, singeing the Fire Nation banner hanging on the wall. "There are no excuses for this!" He whirls around and starts to pace across the room, his blood-red cape flowing out behind him. "I should have _you _arrested for this. Spirits, you all should be _enslaved _for this kind of brainlessness." He spins back to the table and grasps it firmly, making the wood shake. "Do you have any idea who that woman may have been?!"

"N-no, sir. I have no ide-"

"Of course," the admiral spits sarcastically. "How could I expect you to know, being that you're hopelessly inane?" He massages his temples in discontent. "She has been rumored to be the one who taught the Avatar earthbending!"

The manager gulps.

The serviceman nods gruffly. "I see that you can finally grasp the severity of your failure." He puts his hands on the table. He must be heating his hands unknowingly, as the wood under his fingers is starting to darken in color. "If we could capture her, she could lead us right to the Avatar himself!" He exhales deeply, a small flame erupting from his mouth and heating up the manager's face. The admiral turns his back to the other man, making his cape jerk around spastically. The flames of the candles return to their normal size. "Leave me now. I have no desire to speak to you anymore."

The manager gets out of his chair as quickly as anyone with a few broken rubs can, bows, and shuffles quickly to the exit with his head facing the floor. "Yes, Admiral Zhao." He opens the door slowly and steps out, trying and failing to close the metal door silently.

Zhao puts his hands behind his back and meanders to the window of the guest house, looking out onto the shipyard and, more specifically, at his own ship. It's a grand hunk of metal, one of the best in the entire Navy. He pulls one hand from behind him and fingers his bushy sideburns, just above the lines of grey hair he'd discovered just a few days earlier.

"I don't know where you're hiding, Avatar," he says to no one in particular, his deep voice practically echoing around the empty room. "But for your sake, I hope you've got your guard up."

0o0

Aang reclines back on his new sleeping area with a contented sigh, feeling more at peace than he has in years.

After his talk with Toph, she brought him into the camp and gave him a tour of the almost community. He'd met many different types of people, from wise old men to newborn children and everyone in between. The men of the camp met him with strong handshakes and booming laughs, telling him how thankful they are that some "new meat for the boss" arrived. Apparently, Toph goes very hard on the earthbenders and non-bending warriors in the camp. Many of the camp's mothers greeted him with extreme gratitude, letting him know how much they appreciate the fact that another earthbender has arrived to protect them and their children.

No, Aang did not introduce himself as the Avatar, per Toph's suggestion. Instead, he introduced himself as Sho, a young earthbender who had been moonlighting as a loyal Fire Nation citizen before he met Toph in town just this morning. Her reasoning behind him hiding his identity was that she didn't want him to be swarmed by the refugees, nor did she want to risk anyone outside the camp finding out, as that would put everyone in the camp in danger. Aang understands her side of the argument, but still thinks it would have been good for them to know who he really is. It might give them a hope for the future and could possibly drive them to support the supposedly growing rebel army. But who's he to ignore her wishes? It is her camp.

That's another thing; Aang can hardly comprehend the idea that Toph was able to form and run a successful camp after all she went through on the day of Sozin's comet.

Well, she hasn't told him what happened, but he's sure that it's as bad if not worse than what he had to bare.

Still, the thought of Toph as a leader of a group of refugees continues to boggle his mind, along with the fact that she'd managed to transform the abandoned Earth Rumble VI arena into a protected area wide enough to hold so many people by burying the ring and bleachers underground.

He'd always thought of Toph as a lone wolf, running solo and helping only herself. She'd come off that way back when they traveled together ten years ago, but the end of the war must have changed her in ways unimaginable.

"Hey, new guy."

Aang sits up fast and looks over at the entrance to his earth tent. It's one of many, as almost everyone here lives in one, the size of it depending on the size of the family.

Saikhan is standing in front of him with a bundle of cloth in her hands. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a braid that starts at the crown of her head and ends at her mid-back. The top she wears is a low-neck, three-quarter-length sleeved, medium green tunic with angular tannish-yellow accenting at the hem of the neck, tied between her chest and waist by two cloth belts, one a dull yellow and the other light brown, and again just below her elbows by thin brown rope. The color of her pants matches that of the shirt exactly, the fit of them baggy until the hem where more brown rope ties them tight around the bottom of her knees. Her hands, wrists, feet, and ankles are tied with off-white gauze material. Her scar doesn't scream at him as loud as it did a few hours ago, but he's still very much aware of it, mostly because the red so contrasts with her lightly tanned skin. "Put these on," she commands gruffly as she throws the clothes at Aang, perhaps not aiming at his face but hitting it all the same. "Your redness is giving us all a migraine." Aang looks up at her with his eyes slightly narrowed. She places her wrapped hands on her hips. "Be at the center tent in half an hour; you've been invited to have dinner with the top dog." She doesn't bother to wait for a response before she walks away.

Making sure to close off both sides of his tent, Aang peels off his sleeveless tunic and throws it to the floor, his red shirt and pants joining it soon after. He moves to pull on the, thankfully, long-sleeved tan shirt he'd been supplied with, but stops when he sees the light blue tattoos on his arms. He tightens his expression and pulls the high-collared shirt over his head, not really in the mood to deal with his shattered spirit at the moment.

The shirt is paired with a sleeveless brown top with green lines running down his torso. The brown tunic runs down to his mid-thigh, opening just below his waist in the shape of an upside-down "V". He pulls on the roomy tan pants Saikhan gave him, tucking the edges into his brown boots; Aang rejoices at the fact that they're not curled at the toes. Fingerless gloves of a similar brown color cover the arrows on Aang's hands quite nicely.

A tan strip of cloth comes with the outfit, most likely to act as a belt, but Aang ties it firmly around his forehead. The clothes are obviously hand-me-downs, the patches on the elbows and tattered edges of the pants revealing that fact, but Aang is grateful that he is finally able to shed his Fire Nation skin.

Aang brushes off his new-old clothes, lowers the door to his tent, and steps outside. It's nearing dinnertime, so the camp is bustling with activity. The main cooks in the camp, Luka, his wife, and their four sons, each stir a large, steaming pot of clear broth dotted with orange carrots and many small flakes of pepper, both of which are delicacies that Toph had to trade a decent amount of coins for. A mother runs across camp, holding an infant wrapped securely in a blanket and chasing after half-naked toddler. A few children run around kicking a ball, using earthbending to enhance their game, but are forced to stop when a woman with a bandana tied around her hair calls them in for dinner.

When this time of day comes, according to Toph, everyone brings one of their wooden bowls or plates to Luka's family and takes a serving of whatever they've cooked that night. The food is usually plain, as nothing truly extravagant can be cooked for so many people, especially with only six cooks. Everyone gets fed once, and if seconds are available, they're given to whoever is in the most need, like pregnant woman or the ill. Toph would gladly walk up and get their food herself, but someone almost always offers to take it to her in return for her ability to maintain stability in the camp. For a camp of nearly one hundred people, it's a pretty efficient system.

Aang saunters through the camp, shoulders held higher than they have in a while. Being in this new place with an old friend and wearing these different clothes on his body, he feels like a free man. He waves happily to everyone who notices him as he passes, and even catches himself whistling a happy tune.

As he walks, a small sniffle cuts through his mind, bringing him down from his high. He looks in the direction the sound came from, and his face visibly softens.

A little boy, maybe about six or seven years old, is sitting in the shadow of a tent, holding his knee. A line of clean skin runs from his visible eye to his chin, contrasting from the rest of his dirt-covered face and showing Aang that he'd recently been crying. "Hey," Aang says kindly as he leans down, putting one knee on the ground and resting his elbow on his other thigh. "What's the matter?"

The boy sniffles again and adjusts his hand just barely, allowing Aang to notice the small scrape on his knee. He looks hesitantly at Aang, opens his mouth and quickly closes it, as if he's contemplating talking to the older man. Finally, he mumbles, "I…I fell while I was playing with my big brother and his friends." He looks away in embarrassment, a frown appearing on his face.

"Well that's okay," Aang replies simply, smiling at the child. He motions with his head to the three older boys running around and throwing a fist-sized ball through the air. "Why don't you go back and play with them?"

The child buries his head into his knees and shakes it. "I can't," he says into the fabric of his shorts, muffling his voice a tad. "They'll laugh at me for falling down and running away."

Aang leans just a little bit closer and puts a hand on the boys shoulder. "Everybody falls down sometimes."

The boy looks up at Aang and breaths in through his nose, the whites of his brown eyes tinted slightly red with tears. "Even big guys like you?"

Aang chuckles airily. "Yeah, even big guys like me. And you know what we do when we fall?"

"What?" The boy's voice clears a bit and his sniffling ceases.

Aang stands up to his full height and holds out his hand to the tan-skinned child. "We stand right up and get back in the game." The child looks cautiously at Aang's large hand, then smiles a toothy grin, a few of his teeth missing. His small hand grasps Aang's and the bigger man pulls him up with ease. The child then runs back towards the older boys. One of them, possessing the same scruffy, mouse-colored hair of the child ruffles his brothers hair, asking him where he'd ran off to with a semi-worried expression.

Aang smiles at the boys as they start to run around again, the older of the two brothers showing his younger sibling a throwing technique. While he watches, a thought itches at his subconscious, bringing his past and current actions into question.

_Maybe I should take my own advice._

0o0

Aang carries his bowl of soup down the winding trail between the many earth tents until he spots it: the center tent, also known as Toph's tent, is sort of trapezoidal in shape, with two diagonal walls meeting at opposite edges of a ceiling that's parallel to the ground. He knocks on the front wall of the tent, trying to match the rhythm Toph had used when knocking on the wooden doors of the camp but with very little success. Despite his incompetence, the door slides open.

"That was pitiful."

Aang smiles at the sound of Toph's voice. Though she's obviously mocking him, the familiarity her insult pulls at the corners of his mouth.

Once Aang's eyes adjust to the semi-darkness of the tent, he can see that Toph is joined by four others: the Duke, Saikhan, a young woman with cropped reddish-brown hair and bangs hanging halfway over her forehead, and a similarly aged man with very short dark hair and the faintest of sideburns growing next his abnormally large ears. The woman has red war paint on the visible side of her face and the man has a bow strung over his shoulder. Other than Toph, everyone's eyes are on him.

"Hello," Aang says nervously, heat rising up to his face. He waves hesitantly to the Duke and Saikhan before turning to the other two. "I'm A-er, Sho," he introduces himself sloppily as he rubs the back of his neck with one hand, his hot bowl of soup in the other. They say nothing.

The five of them sit on circular rock chairs next to a makeshift rock table, all most likely risen from the ground and will be easily buried again later. Toph sits next to Saikhan on one side, the Duke sits alone, and the other man and woman sit side by side across from Toph and Saikhan. Not really loving the hostile look the Duke is giving him, Aang raises a chair of his own and sits on the side opposite him, Toph diagonally to his left. She smirks in greeting before swallowing another spoonful of her soup, the subtle movement of her mouth almost covered by her bangs. The Duke's eyes narrow even more. Aang swallows.

Finally, the girl with the war paint breaks the overhanging silence. "Nice to meet you, Sho," she says, but she doesn't smile or seem very interested in meeting him. She has metal shoulder-guards strapped to her dark brown shirt and gauze wrapped around her forearms. From this angle, Aang can also see the dagger strapped to her hip. She holds out her hand, the back of it covered in small scars. "I'm Smellerbee, and this talkative fella over here," she motions to the silent man next to her, now smiling slightly, "is Longshot."

Smellerbee? Longshot? They were Freedom Fighters with Jet and the Duke! Aang fought alongside them in Lake Laogi. Aang blinks, remembering that he has to try to act like he's never met them before.

He takes Smellerbee's hand in his and shakes. "Nice to meet you too, Smellerbee." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Toph nod slightly in approval.

Longshot nudges Smellerbee's arm and looks at her, saying nothing. She watches him for a second, her eyes eventually widening slightly in remembrance. "Oh, the hunting report, right." Longshot nods curtly then turns back to his dinner.

"There wasn't a lot of large game out there," Smellerbee admits. "But we got plenty of fox-squirrels and did manage to snag one…" She stops for a second, searching for the right word. "…deer."

Toph rests her spoon onto the table and raises an eyebrow. "Just…'deer'?"

"Do you mean rabbit-deer?" Saikhan pipes in.

The Duke brings his spoon from his mouth and points it at Smellerbee. "Or maybe an ox-deer?"

"Goat-deer?" Aang offers. He swallows his first spoonful of soup, not overly impressed but satisfied nonetheless.

Longshot shakes his head and Smellerbee shrugs. "No, it was just…a deer."

Toph shakes her head slowly before she slurps down another spoonful of the broth. "Weird."

The six of them continue their meal in silence, each of them taking sideways glances at each of the others at one point, hold for Toph of course. The Duke looks at Aang especially, almost as if he's watching him for some unknown reason.

Eventually, when it's almost empty, the Duke picks his bowl up and drains it, forgetting the spoon for more efficient means of eating. When he all but slams his bowl back onto the table, he turns to Smellerbee. "What about the Red Backs?" He asks unashamedly. "You see a lot of them?

Aang knows immediately who he's talking about.

Smellerbee moves the carrots around her soup with her spoon. "About seven miles out, yes," she informs him with a slight edge.

Toph's grip on her spoon turns deadly. Her soup is forgotten. "How many?" She asks tensely.

Smellerbee hesitates at first, but finally comes out with it. "A rather large platoon, maybe about twenty-five of them. They were wandering around the woods, scaring away a lot of our game. They looked like they were searching for something."

"For _us_," Saikhan corrects testily. "You know how eager they are to find more innocent people to kill." Her sarcastic tone does nothing good to the newly ignited feelings filling the room.

Toph releases her spoon, making it clatter across the table. The handle of the spoon is now wavy, bent by her powerful hand. "This is becoming ridiculous," she says calmly, but the anger burning inside her is evident. "It's been ten years and the rebels have done a whole lot of _nothing_."

"Honestly," Smellerbee agrees as she pushes her bowl away in disgust. At this point, none of them really feel like eating. "What could they possibly be waiting for?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The Duke asks with a sarcastic sneer. "They're waiting for the almighty Avatar to rise from the ashes and save us all." His voice is practically dripping with acerbic resentment. He shakes his head slowly and faces his head towards Aang, looking him straight in the eye. Aang sinks slightly in his seat, sure that his face is getting redder by the second. "If you ask me, that failure can stay gone. He couldn't help us ten years ago, and the coward obviously won't help us now." He motions to Aang with a slight nod of his head. "Am I right, Sho?"

Aang gulps. During his time in Lu Ren, he'd heard people talk of their hatred for the Avatar. Some of them were loyal Fire Nation citizens, but some were refugees like the ones Toph harbors, but these Earth Kingdom natives were forced to hide under red clothing and phony names.

They had felt like he'd abandoned them, like he didn't care enough to stand up for them and had allowed himself to fade into the background, which he kind of did. Once or twice, he'd heard somebody wish that the Avatar has died or will soon die a painful death. Aang had tried to block them out, but their words just drilled into his brain and brought his self-detestation to new levels.

Out of nowhere, someone's foot touches his. He looks at Toph without turning his head. Her head is turned slightly towards him, her eyes giving away nothing yet saying everything. Whether her subtle touch was meant to comfort him or remind him of the lie he's living as Sho, he doesn't know. Whatever she'd done, it was exactly what he needed.

"Yeah, the Duke," Aang agrees haughtily, his heart feeling like it's about to fall right out of his chest. "The Avatar shouldn't bother showing his face again."

The Duke nods slowly, some kind of approval coming across his face. "You know," he says genuinely. "I think I had you pegged wrong, Sho. You're a pretty decent guy."

Aang laughs, but the laughter sounds like it belongs to someone more depressed then he's ever felt. He stands up, collapses his chair, and steps towards the door. "No," he promises stiffly as he walks out, something unknown bubbling up from his stomach, burning right through his heart, and flowing up to his brain. "I'm not."

0o0

Aang can't believe it. He'd felt so fantastic just before dinner had started, like he was back on his glider, flying freely through the air without a care in the world. He'd felt on top of it all, felt like he could close his eyes and pretend that everything's okay, pretend like he'd be content living a lie in Toph's refugee camp.

But he isn't. He can't.

Somehow, that half hour in Toph's tent had managed to tear him down, pull apart his make-believe pedestal and let him tumble back into his epitome of shame, making sure he hits every jagged memory on the way down. He's been morphed into the guilt incarnate, the transformation similar to the feeling of something slowly eating him out from the inside. He could easily hole himself up in his tent, curl into a secure ball, and stay hidden until he can re-plaster his fake smile to his face.

But at the same time, he refuses to allow himself to drown in his own pity again. He can't afford to bow down to weakness anymore, nor can he pull his knees to his chest and act as if the outside world doesn't exist.

He has to do something. _Anything_.

"Knock, knock."

He pulls his head from his hands and raises his somber gaze to the woman at the front of his tent, preparing for the worst but hoping for the best.

Toph leans against one side of the opening to his tent, her arms crossed and one leg bent in front of the other. "Look, I'm sorry about dinner. The Duke can be an inconsiderate jerk when he wants to be."

"But he has nothing _to _consider!" Aang protests, loud enough to have an effect but not to disturb the rest of the camp. "He has no idea who I am, and even if he knew, he'd still be right!"

Toph sighs deeply. "Twinkletoes, you're _not_ the kind of person that would just give up on the world; we haven't been in each other's lives for the past ten years and I still know that." Her voice isn't exactly compassionate, but that emotion has never really fit into Toph's personality.

Aang rubs his forehead under his headband, his tattoo feeling hot to the touch, his entire being feeling ready to spontaneously combust. "Isn't that what I've been doing by hiding from Ozai for so many years?" He sounds as if he's nearing his breaking point, his voice itself no more than a hollow whisper.

Toph blows her bangs out of her face with an angry huff and takes a half step away from him. "Who _are _you?" She all but spits at him, her body language displaying how shocked at him she is. "What happened to the happy-go-lucky bald weirdo I knew a decade ago?"

Aang shakes his head slowly, his hands holding his skull like he's trying to keep his mind from leaking out his ears. "I don't know," he admits, melancholy at the thought of his old self. "I haven't seen him in almost ten years." Now, when Aang looks in the mirror, all he sees is a hollow, breakable shell of a man with an unfortunate haircut. "I think," he breathes out, his voice sounding strangled. "I think he's gone."

Toph's fingers rub at her temples, her face scrunched up, possibly due to conflicted thoughts. She inhales deeply through her nose, exhales through slightly parted lips, and says, "No, he's not."

"…What do you mean?"

"I mean," she replies, trying to stay calm, "that you can't just _lose_ who you really are. You'll find yourself again somehow." She takes a shuddery breath and walks into his tent, holds up her hand as if she's going to punch him, but places it on his shoulder instead. "I did, and so can you." She takes her hand off his shoulder slowly, then winds it back up and finally punches his arm, nearly knocking him over. "So stop all this pointless moping."

Aang grits his teeth at the blow, but opens his mind to the advice. "I think," he repeats, but this time a smile is creeping into his voice and onto his face. "That we still have a lot to talk about. Ten years is a pretty long time to be separated."

Toph considers his words with a raise of her eyebrows, then grabs his wrist and starts to pull him out of his tent. "Come on, you have to see something."

He lets her pull him into the nearly dead camp, but hesitates when the doors are in sight. "But what about our talk?"

Toph scoffs and pulls him harder towards the exit. "We'll talk on the way!"

Finally, Aang digs his heels into the ground and pulls her back, shocking himself and Toph with his forwardness as well as his strength. "But where are we going?"

Under her hair, Aang can see a knowing smirk creep onto her face. "Trust me, it will make you feel a thousand times better."

0o0

"How is a forest clearing going to make me feel better?"

After begrudging his agreement to follow Toph out of the hollowed out arena, Aang's emotions haven't changed by much, and he doesn't see how an empty clearing in the middle of the woods is going to help. To his displeasure, they hadn't shared anything on the way there.

Toph shushes him with a finger to her lips. "Shut up and wait a second," she orders through gritted teeth. Then, she turns to the woods in front of them, puts her fists on her hips, and whistles two short notes to the rustling leaves around them. Aang hears an owl hoot, the slight sound of running water from a nearby stream, and the sound of his own feet shifting on the dirt. By now, Yue is rising above their heads, signifying the beginning of the night.

"…You brought me out here to whistle?" Agitated, she replies with a flick to his forehead. "Hey!"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" She asks with a hiss. Aang shrugs meekly, his hands up next to his shoulders, grinning wide in embarrassment.

Toph just turns away, muttering a colorful pallet of words under her breath. After another moment, she whistles again, only the notes are slightly longer this time.

She turns her ear towards the forest first, as if she heard something. Aang's ears, despite their size, can't compete with hers, so he hears nothing. A few moments later, the sound enters his ears.

The faint flapping of wings mixed with a monkey-like chittering. Toph smiles wide.

The flying lemur circles over them, his bat-like wings, large ears, and long tail silhouetted against Yue's light. He lands on Toph's shoulder, addressing her by pushing his face against her cheek and making an adoring noise. "Hey there, Momo," Toph says to him as she scratches the fur between his ears.

Aang sputters for words, moving his hands around aimlessly in an attempt to explain the sight in front of him. "How is he, I mean, when did you, er, I meant, uh…How?"

"He found me a few days after Sozin's Comet," Toph explains. "He can't live in the camp for obvious reasons, so he flies in the forest surrounding it. I come out here and see him from time to time."

"Does anyone else know about him?" Toph shakes her head in response.

Momo, finally noticing Aang, looks him over with his wide, greenish-yellow eyes. Then, quick as a whip, he moves to Toph's other shoulder and looks at Aang from behind her head, giving Aang a hostile hiss.

"I don't think he recognizes me," Aang says, kind of wanting to hold his hand out to Momo but not really wanting to lose a finger.

Toph's hand comes up to stroke Momo's back in an attempt to calm him down. "Show him."

"Show him what?"

"Your arrow, Airhead."

Aang opens his mouth in understanding, looks Momo in the eyes, and hesitantly raises his hands to the knot of his headband. The lemur moves toward him menacingly, his teeth bared back in a threatening snarl. "It's okay, buddy," Aang tries in his friendliest voice. Momo paws at the air in front of him, his neck fur rising. "It's me, Aang, remember? I stopped Sokka from eating you." Something flashes across Toph's face at the mention of the Water Tribe warrior, but she says nothing. With a heavy exhale, Aang unties his headband and pulls it off his head.

Momo's reaction is immediate. He flies over Toph's head, using her bun as a sort of springboard, and lands on directly on Aang's shoulder. He wraps his tail halfway around Aang's neck and licks his cheek affectionately, making a sort of purring noise when Aang's finger scratches his stomach.

"You know," says Aang as Momo flies off his shoulder and curls up on a nearby tree branch, one eye closed but another still very much watching them. "I think Momo is the first living thing in ten years to see my arrow, beside myself of course."

Toph half-smiles and angles her head towards the ground. "It's been that long, huh?"

Aang watches as Momo slowly falls asleep, nodding before he remembers that Toph can't see him. "Yeah." He exhales slowly as he turns his gaze from Momo to Toph's face. Her expression gives away nothing, her functioning senses fully concentrated on something Aang can't see or hear.

"What happened that day?" He asks suddenly, making Toph jump a bit. "Sozin's Comet," he clarifies.

Toph turns her head away for a moment, her shoulders stiffening and relaxing. Seeming like she's taking a huge weight off her shoulders, she sighs and, without any introduction, begins to speak.

"Everything was going fine," starts Toph with a pained expression. "But then Suki got separated from us. We were on top of the airships, me metalbending the fins so the ships would fly into each other while Sokka covered me. Then I think a firebender started to shoot at us and we fell, but Sokka stuck his sword into the fabric of the ship to slow us down. We landed hard on an outlying balcony of the ship, or rather Sokka did, because he was holding onto me while I was dangling in the air." She swallows hard. "He'd hurt his leg in the fall. Two more firebenders came at us, but Sokka got rid of them with his boomerang and sword. We stayed that way for a while, his hand dangling over the edge of the ship while I hung onto it for dear life, but then there were more of them. I don't know exactly how many, maybe six or so, but it was too many. So I let go of his hand." She turns back towards Aang and turns her head up so she could have been looking him in the eyes. By force of habit, Aang focuses on her vestigial irises, surprised by how many emotions he sees swimming in the milky green pools. With a definitive sigh, she concludes her story:

"I was terrified while I was falling, but I managed to make the land below me rise up and soften enough to catch my fall. I'm positive that I had a few broken ribs, but other than that I came out clean." She lowers her head again. "I don't know what happened to Sokka or Suki after that."

Aang steps towards her and moves to put a comforting hand on her slim shoulder. "Toph-"

"Don't bother," she retorts, smacking his hand away. "Don't you see what I did?" Her eyes are ablaze now, like two nebulous orbs full of green fire. "I abandoned them! I could have helped them, but I only helped myself!"

Aang tries to maintain his calm demeanor, but inside, he's crumbling. "Are you kidding? Sokka was probably able to fight off the soldiers since you freed his hand by sacrificing yourself. He could have reunited with Suki and they might have safely escaped, all thanks to you."

"_Probably_? **Could**? _**Might**_? Face it, Aang: I was a failure, and Sokka and Suki are probably dead because of me."

Aang can feel himself slipping down, down, down, farther and farther below himself. The guilt monster that has been cooking inside of him for a decade rears its ugly head. "You want to talk about failure?!" Aang raises his hands above his head to exaggerate his point, his face getting hot with frustration. "I _ran_ _away_ from him, Toph. I ran like a frightened child." He puts his face down so he's level with her, boring holes into her face with his grey eyes. "You _think_ you _might_ have failed two people? Try _knowing_ that you _failed_ the _**whole damned**_ _**world**_!" And just like that, his frustrations are released. All of his pent up anger at and disappointment in himself has exploded through his mouth like water from a dam.

It takes him a moment to remember that Toph doesn't know how to swim, not through physical water nor in a discontented flow of emotions.

He opens his mouth to apologize a thousand times for his outburst, but Toph's finger points at him just inches from his face, pushing his words back down his throat. "You know what, _Headband_," she vindicates crossly. "If you want to let your load of self-pity swallow you whole, _that's fine_, but you need to come to grips with the fact that you have absolutely _**no**_ idea what the rest of us have gone through!" She lowers her finger and pulls him down by the collar of his shirt. "You know how Saikhan got her scar?!"

"Toph-"

"A group of firebenders attacked her village a year after the war, violated and killed her mother right in front of her, then burned half her face off."

"Toph, I-"

"You know why the Duke always keeps his helmet on? It's because he's missing a huge chunk of his ear from knife fighting with another refugee over a damned slice of bread!"

"Toph, _please_-"

"And do you know where my parents are?!" She booms, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. "They're _dead_, Aang! _**DEAD**_!" She releases him with a shove, making him land hard on the ground. Momo's head shoots up at the noise, then he flies furiously into the cover of the trees. "I know that we never had the greatest relationship, but that doesn't mean I wanted them to _die_." Her voice is weakening now, sounding as if she's beyond being upset, beyond tears, beyond any display of sadness. She sounds like her entire body has gone numb, turning her from a human being into an emotion-retardant shell.

Toph pants heavily, the weight of all of those secrets off her shoulders but the heaviness of her somber heart weighing her down. "So if for all these years you've thought that you've had it bad," she spits with a shaky voice, wiping her wet eyes with the heel of her hand. "Guess again, _**Avatar**_."

And just like that, as if her saying the word "Avatar" started some sort of reaction inside of him, Aang falls into a vision.

_He sees Sokka looking over the edge of the airship and into the red sky, watching a green speck fall to the ground, obscenities that Aang can't hear spilling from his mouth. _

_He sees Azula fire a bolt of lightning at Katara, only for Zuko to intercept it, firing most of it back into the sky but absorbing some of it into his chest._

_He flashes back to Sokka and watches as one of the soldiers attempts to converge onto him, but is stopped when a woman slides down from the roof and lands onto his back, successfully knocking him out cold. Sokka's mouth forms her name, but his blue eyes are full of grief. _

_Back with Katara, Azula, and Zuko, Aang is forced to watch Azula chase Katara around on blue firebending jets, that is, until Katara finds a large source of water and freezes Azula completely. Then, gathering all of her strength, she picks Zuko up and hauls him onto Appa and hops on herself. She's about to say the two words to make Appa fly away, but the human part of forces her to turn and unfreeze Azula's head. Aang watches, but doesn't hear Azula's ragged coughing after being forced to hold her breath, then her maniacal laugh as she watches her brother and enemy fly away, steam rising around her as she melts the ice with her blue-hot fire._

_As that vision ends, he's transported back to the airships, where Suki has successfully incapacitated the guards and helped Sokka limp into the control room of the ship, making sure to dispose of the Fire Nation men in there as well. The last thing Aang sees is their air ship breaking ranks and flying away, but not being pursued._

Aang snaps back into reality with a jolt. He's back in the clearing, still on the ground, and Toph is standing far away with her back facing him.

He raises a hand up as if to touch her shoulder, despite the fact she's ten feet away. "Toph?" He utters her name hesitantly, fearing her response.

For a little while, she says nothing, the silence even more frightening and unbearable than anything else.

"…What?" She barks eventually without turning around. "Do you want to cry on my shoulder now?"

Aang flinches at the harshness behind her words, aware that she's angrier at herself than him and being wise enough to keep that fact to himself. "I saw them," he reports almost flatly. "I had a vision."

She keeps her back to him for another group of seconds, but to Aang they feel like individual lifetimes going by at a painfully slow pace. At last, she turns halfway towards him. "Who did you see?" A hopeful tone slips into her voice.

"All of them," Aang replies as he stands up, feeling stronger and more confident the closer to his full height he gets. "Katara, Zuko, Sokka, Suki; they all got away safely." He somehow musters up a crooked smile. "They're not dead." Spirits, what he would have given to have that vision years ago. Although, a part of him knows that it was Toph's fierce words that triggered it when nothing else could.

Toph turns fully around now and takes a few steps towards him. Her previous anger seems to have evaporated, and her bending abilities have helped her tell that he's speaking honestly, not just trying to humor her like anyone would a crying child. "What do you think it means?"

Aang smile grows. Momo suddenly reappears, landing not on his tree branch but on Aang's shoulder. "Isn't it obvious?" He asks as he scratches Momo under his chin. He straightens his shoulders and stands at his full height, feeling not like Kuzon, not like Sho, but like Aang. He feels like himself again.

"We have to get Team Avatar back together and bring Ozai and Azula down."

The silence that meets his declaration scares him. He starts to think his words over, fearing that he'd come off too cocky or ridiculous.

He worried for nothing.

Toph steps closer to Aang, enough that Momo can easily walk over to her shoulder. She ignores the lemur's attempts to get her to pet him, cracking her knuckles instead.

"Count me in."

* * *

**8,632 word long chapter is 8,632 words long.**

**Anywho, hooray for my beautiful babies finally wanting to knock some Fire Nation heads!**

**Also, asdfghjkgfdsdfghjklkjhgfdsdfghjkl… **_**MOMO**_**!**

**Review/favorite/follow[me or my story] maybe? I don't like it when you guys stay silent ^_^**

**~CCC16**


	6. Chapter 6: Identities

**SO SORRY THAT I'M LATE! My internet was down for a month and my computer had been out for repairs for about 6 weeks. I just got it back two days ago; PLEASE FORGIVE ME!**

**Disclaimer: I'm really not in the mood**

* * *

_Chapter 6: Identities_

Something furry itches at Aang's nose, waking him after a stiff night of sleeping on the dusty forest floor. Aang opens his eyes to see Momo's tail twitching due to whatever the lemur is currently dreaming about, leading him to guess what furry thing awakened him from a surprisingly restful sleep. He pokes Momo in the side to wake him up then shoos him away, feeling lazy and hoping to covet a few more minutes of rest.

As Momo flies away, the sight he'd unknowingly been hiding from Aang's view is revealed: Toph sits about fifteen feet away with one of her shoulders facing him, arms wrapped around her knees, her face raised towards the oncoming breeze of the early morning. The peculiar thing is, she's freed her dark hair from its restraints, allowing it to flow out behind her in midnight waves that curl slightly at the edges; her headband still lies atop her head but does nothing to hold down her hair.

Her expression is calm as she breathes the fresh air in through her nose, closing her eyes momentarily to fully absorb the serenity of the day. As she reopens them, he notices that Toph's light green eyes perfectly reflect the many oranges and pinks of the sunrise. Aang keeps his eyes trained on her peaceful form, not really sure why he's so mystified.

"You gonna stare at me all morning?"

Aang closes his mouth at her sudden inquiry, only realizing at that moment that it'd been parted just a tad. "Uh, no?" He tries with a sheepish smile.

Toph turns her heads down and exhales through her mouth, her eyes only halfway open. "You're a mess, Twinkletoes."

Aang smiles and reaches for his headband that he'd abandoned last night. "Hopefully I'll fix myself as I'm fixing the world," he replies as he stands up and dusts off his clothes, making her smirk.

Just last night, he and Toph had agreed to try to reunite Team Avatar and end Azula and Ozai's reign of terror. After that, they'd wandered around the forest, petting Momo and talking about anything but the horrible lives they plan to end and the long journey ahead of them.

At one point, they had stopped and laid down so Aang could admire the stars. Toph had just laid a few feet away from him, levitating three rocks above her open palm and moving them about in various ways. She listened to him talk about the different colors of the stars, the many constellations, and so many other descriptive things about the night sky. Despite the knowledge that she wouldn't understand anything he said, she'd let him talk for as long as he wished, just so he could feel like a carefree child again and release all of his pent up stress. Sometime after, the two of them must have dozed off.

Aang stands up at stretches his arms above his head, rejoicing in the sound of his bones moving and the feeling of his muscles contracting and relaxing. Despite the fact that he'd slept on the dirty, hard ground, he hasn't slept that well in years. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth in a colossal yawn, and by the time he reopens his eyes, Toph has returned her hair to its usual bun. Aang chuckles slightly as he scratches at his chest.

"How'd you do that so fast?"

Toph shrugs, turning to him with a neutral posture and expression. Her bangs flop lazily in the breeze, and Aang notices how they don't cover her face as much as they did a decade ago. "Years of practice, Twinkletoes," she informs him with a hint of pride in her voice.

Aang smiles wide. At the sound of his nickname, at the sight of his friend, and just the feeling of being in Toph's atmosphere again. Too much time has gone by since he's been this happy.

By some unspoken agreement, Toph and Aang start moving back into the forest and towards her fort again. Toph, unbeknownst to Aang thanks to her otherworldly skill to hide her emotions, has the smallest bit of unease clawing at the bottom of her stomach. She's kept her refugees safe from capture, torture, or worse for so many years, and now she's leaving. Sure, the journey she'll take could end in victory that could upturn the very government from which so many cower, but it could also end in colossal failure and eventual imprisonment if not death. The thought itself makes the crisp breeze of the morning slip through her skin and sinewy muscles until it touches and rattles her bones. Inwardly, she shivers.

Aang, on the other hand, hasn't been more content with the path his life is taking than he was when he started traveling the world with Sokka and Katara. His mind is reeling and spinning around all the possible ways that he can remove the blemishes from his ravished name. He can find his friends, he can stop the Fire Nation, and he can finally redeem himself.

He likes the sound of that. After so many years, the Avatar's redemption will finally take place, and he will restore balance to the world.

He has to keep telling himself this, because if he allows the reality that fighting a governing nation that has been growing and prospering for over a decade will be the most difficult thing any man could ever do would make him want to fade into the background again. To dissolve into the world until he's nothing but a fake name for a hollow body confining a lost soul.

He will never allow himself to fall that low again. Even if he slips, he now has Toph to pull him back up and knock him around until he gets over himself and swallows his overflow of estranged emotions.

The walk back to Toph's fort is a quiet one, but not uncomfortably so. While just a day earlier there may have been a hint of awkwardness in the air, the quiet blanketing them now is peaceful, welcome, and most of all, amicable. They know each other. Despite the ten year gap, their relationship is still alive; hanging by a distant thread, but simmering like a hot coal nonetheless.

Aang can feel the growing comfort Toph is feeling while being around him rolling off her in waves. It's obvious that their friendship will not instantly pick up where it left off, but she seems to be a little more than halfway there and getting closer with every passing conversation.

The forest passes by quickly and the arena-turned-fort stands tall in front of them again, the slick stone absorbing the morning sun. A guard is stationed at the wooden doors, hands clasped behind his back. He notices their arrival, and starts briskly walking towards them; Aang recognizes him to be the Duke as he gets near enough for his facial features to be differentiated.

"By the spirits, Bei Fong!" He all but barks when he gets within ten feet of them. His helmet is absent, and Aang can see the wound Toph mentioned the night before: a large part of the Duke's left ear is absent, leaving behind a ravaged appendage that mimics chewed meat. His grimace gives away everything, from his obvious anger to his underlying worry. "Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?!" Toph almost winces at that, being that she'll soon be gone for much longer.

"Yeah, and?" She bites back instead of flinching, taking a step forward and raising a fist. "I'm a big girl, Tin Head. You don't have to watch over me like I'm a bothersome child."

The Duke flares his nostrils to the size of large acorns. He's put his face right in front of hers within a millisecond. "Then stop acting like one!" He spits back, matching her angry scowl to a frightening tee.

Toph curls her lip up, and Aang swears that he feels the earth around them tremble. She stands like a stone before the Duke, not faltering under his death stare and returning it with surprising ferocity. Right when she seems ready to blow, Toph, uncharacteristically, contains her temper and releases a very agitated sigh.

Toph stands up to her full height and acquires a near authoritative expression. "Get Saikhan," she orders the Duke as if he's the private to her general. "We have important matters to discuss." With that, Toph pushes past him and walks proudly and silently to the doors of her fort.

Aang watches her with confusion and a pinch of concern, but is jarred back to the man next to him when the Duke clears his breath sharply.

"Look here, Sho," the Duke growls in an almost hostile tone. "I don't know where you came from or why Toph deemed you worthy enough to join our small community, but you should know that I will _not_ tolerate the disappearance of our leader for an entire night, no matter what the reason." The Duke pushes a blaming finger to Aang's chest and stares the other man down, but the effect is lost due to their noticeable height difference. "Therefore it should go without saying that I've got my eye on you, especially when you're around her." Aang swears he hears jealousy in the Duke's voice as he threatens him, along with a wavering tone of doubt. "You've no business with her in any way, shape, or form."

Aang can't help but half-smile knowingly. "With all due respect, _Tin Head_, neither do you." Aang follows Toph's invisible trail back into the fort, feeling proud that he stood up for himself but a bit guilty for sort of putting the Duke down. The Duke makes a noise of frustration, but Aang eventually hears his begrudged footsteps following him back inside the old Earth Rumble arena.

_If the Duke is angry at me now_, Aang thinks to himself, _how angry will he be when he finds out that I'm not who he thinks I am?_

0o0

_Apparently, very._

"Wait wait wait," Saikhan leans a hand on the stone table in Toph's tent and rubs her temples with the other. Aang's headband and gloves sit abandoned on the table just a few feet from her hand. "Back this badgermole up. You're telling me that you're the _Avatar_?" Saikhan's face displays her obvious disbelief and confusion, while the Duke shows nothing but raw anger and hate. He has, for some reason, chosen not to intervene throughout Aang and Toph's explanation of who "Sho" truly is and what the two of the must set out to do. Once Aang took off the headband, the Duke's chagrin has inhabited every molecule of the earth tent and every pore of both Aang and Toph, so much so that Aang's skin is crawling under his constant glare.

"Yes," Aang informs her semi-proudly, though he still anxiously flickers his gaze back to the Duke every few seconds. The way the young man constantly clutches and releases the handle of his hammer is making Aang apprehensive.

Saikhan curls her lips inward and looks up at the ceiling as if she's slowly absorbing the information. She drums her fingers against the table and audibly exhales through slightly parted lips. Eventually, she looks back up at Aang with her forest eyes. "I kind of hate you," she says with honesty but not flat out anger.

Aang rubs the back of his head and chuckles nervously. "I sort of expected that," he mumbles half to himself, embarrassed.

Saikhan scoffs and looks at Toph. "Was he always like this?" She asks, sounding somewhat interested but more like she just wants to get under Aang's skin.

Toph smirks and releases a short laugh of her own. "Hasn't changed a bit." She slaps Aang on the back for some kind of emphasis; the slap is hard enough that he coughs and his next intake of breath is a wheeze. Saikhan sniggers into her hand.

"There's something else," the Duke pipes in for the first time with an evident snarl. "What else haven't you told us?" His acrimony slices through Aang like a newly sharpened blade. Aang isn't sure, but he can sense a bit of jealousy lurking in the Duke's voice. A bit more obvious is Toph's light exhale in reaction, but even that is just barely akin to the gentlest breeze.

"I owe a debt to the world," Aang iterates somewhat regally. The words don't sting as they leave his mouth like he suspected they would; rather, they seem to heal old blisters formed by years of spewing lies. "I have to find a way to bring Phoenix King Ozai down, and Toph," Aang looks over at the side of her face, tracing every impassive curve or her face in the millisecond long glance and committing her older face to memory just in case he loses her again. He eventually finishes, "Toph is coming along to help me reconnect with Team Avatar and fix the world."

"We need her _here_," the Duke argues definitively. He stands up from his seat, still as poised to bring Aang down as before, and meets the taller man's gaze with a boiling brown glare. "_You_ caused this constant hell, so why don't _you_ fix it on _your own_?" His thin lips curl into an admonishing sneer and the smuggest of chortles sounds from the base of his throat.

Aang maintains his gaze evenly, but is inwardly squirming like the bugs those swamp men used to eat for dinner. "I don't-"

"You need to take a step back, Hard Head," Toph all but commands as she interrupts Aang and pushes him aside before puts her cool blind eyes just inches from the Duke's smoldering irises. "No offense to him, but if Aang couldn't go it alone against one pyromaniac ten years ago, he definitely can't go against a nation full of them now without any sort of back up, so my help is clearly necessary." As the pair stare each other down, Aang can feel the crackling and sparking of the strangest mixture of anger, frustration, estranged loyalty, and some sort of betrayal from the Duke's side. Toph's powerful voice continues on and the Duke never falters;

"And the decision to help was completely mine. I _chose_ to help him, not only because this world is terribly overdue for a somewhat competent rescue team, but because our success will ultimately help everyone here," she holds her arms above her head and motions to the door to the tent to cement her point. "And about needing me," she starts up again, making the Duke deepen his scowl and close his mouth that he had opened to release a surely stinging reply. "You don't. I think I've managed to create a halfway decent and peaceful course of life for the small community housed here, and I've trained every earthbender of fighting age here, just as you've done with the nons." A thin finger shoots form her pale fist and pokes the Duke right in the center of his chest armor; his eyebrow twitches. "So unless you absolutely positively _need_ me to tuck you in bed every night, everything here should be just _dandy_."

"So you would just leave us leaderless?" The Duke challenges once Toph allows him to speak.

"We wouldn't be," Saikhan edges her way into the conversation and between the two prickly people. "Toph and I have gone over what should and will be done if a situation occurred in which Toph had to leave or we were," she coughs uncomfortably and drops her dark green eyes. "Left leaderless, as you said." Aang is shocked by how calm and collected Saikhan seems. It becomes suddenly apparent to him then that between the Duke and Toph, a mediator must have been necessary to keep the two hot heads from ripping each other's throats out, even if the mediator herself has a bit of a temper.

The Duke, if it's even possible, narrows his eyes into even slighter slits. "And I was never informed of this so-called plan?"

"It wasn't necessary to bring up until this point," Toph says through gritted teeth.

"A plan for how we'll go on after the death that you obviously think is coming to you isn't necessary to discuss?!" The Duke explodes with bugged eyes and a disbelieving frown.

"It isn't about me dying!" Toph retorts loudly but levelly as she places her hands on her hips. "It's a simple matter or order and succession! Every lord needs an heir, and that same rule applies to the leader of a loosely-governed group of runaways."

"Alright," he grumbles half-heartedly with obvious hints of anger and sarcasm. "Who is this _heir_, and when do you expect me to start groveling at _their_ feet?"

"You and every other refugee here have never groveled anywhere, Duke," Toph deadpans agitatedly at the implication that she expects to be treated like royalty, her arms now crossed. "And I know for a fact that you especially wouldn't grovel at Wing's feet."

"Who?" Aang interjects confusedly. He leans back and looks away when all the working eyes in the room look towards him as if he were an ignorant bother.

After what feels like an eternity of Aang avoiding the knowing gazes, Saikhan chuckles despite the room's heavy air, making the red skin next to her mouth wrinkle. "Wing is my first name," she informs him with a somewhat friendly smile. "Seems reasonable that I tell you my name now that you've flipped the world upside down by telling me yours."

Aang returns the half smile with one of his own. "Yeah...sorry about that."

Wing shrugs. "Meh, it happens to us on an almost every-day basis," she responds loosely, relieving some of the invisible weight on Aang's shoulders.

The Duke quickly reapplies it. "When are you leaving?" He asks directly, being that beating around the bush has never really worked out so well for him.

"Later today." Aang looks to Toph for confirmation, getting only the slightest of nods. "We'll leave before dinner and acquire supplies in town. Toph offered, but I won't allow myself to use some of your community's much-needed supplies."

"Well," he says with a slight exhale as he stares holes through Aang's face. "At least you're doing something right." The Duke turns his head and looks at the ground, his body language screaming at everyone to leave him alone. He touches his war hammer with a halfhearted finger, and Aang remembers his frustrated comments at dinner last night with a shudder.

The amount that the Duke has changed since childhood is outrageous. Aang realizes that the wound to his ear must not have been the worst horror he has been forced to live through. The thought puts yet another dent in his guilty heart.

Saikhan looks from her comrade to her leader then back at the ground, avoiding Aang's eyes altogether. "Spirits," she mutters under her breath. Then she turns on her heels and exits the tent faster than Aang can comprehend. The Duke gives Toph a lingering look before his now slumping shoulders follow Wing out of Toph's tent.

Aang exhales through a slightly agape mouth. "Well, that was…an experience."

Toph grunts impassively. "Whatever. Saikhan will figure it out. The Duke is a baby, but he'll get over it eventually." Her voice is tired as she addresses him. Ancient, even. She walks so her back is facing Aang and waves a hand at him over her shoulder. "Go break for lunch," she orders as if he were any one of the people living under her. "Get your stuff together, then meet me outside the walls."

"Aren't we going to tell the camp who I am and where you're going?" He inquires as he takes a hesitant half-step forward.

She shakes her head. "No need to make a big deal of it. I'll make the announcement to the group that I'll be on an extended trip, and Saikhan will make up a story to go with your sudden absence."

"So quick to lie to them?" He doesn't mean to sound chiding, but the words fall out that way.

To his surprise, she chortles momentarily and turns her head halfway towards him. Her mouth is a flat line. "Sometimes, Twinkletoes, a lie is better than the truth. Can you imagine the chaos that would eventually ensue if ninety seven people knew the whereabouts of the Avatar?"

Aang is silent as he reevaluates her surprisingly wise words. "Do you realize how unlike yourself you sound?"

The side of her face he can see hardens and her eyes narrow. "A decade of hell tends to do that to a person." She stays that way for a moment, most likely reliving things she'd never talk about, frozen in some sort of trance.

Suddenly, Toph blinks and her previously clouded eyes are clear. She turns back around and walks up to him. "But don't worry," she says as she punches him in the tricep without a second thought. Aang winces under the unexpected force; her body doesn't betray her strength. "I'll be back to my stubborn self and be spewing out sarcastic barbs before you know it."

Shooting pain aside, Aang smiles.

"Sounds good to me."

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**I'll be back much sooner this time, I promise! I also would have made this chapter longer, but I figured I should update ASAP, so I stopped writing earlier. Hopefully my power won't go out; it hasn't yet b/c Sandy has been merciful to my neighborhood, although my lights are flickering D: ! Thank you all for favoriting/following/reviewing my story while I've been gone! **_**KEEP THE REVIEWS COMING!**_

**All my love, CCC16**


	7. Chapter 7: Criminal Acts

**Guess who didn't lose power during Hurricane Sandy~**

**Seriously, though. 85% of LI loses power, but I don't?! SANDY HAS BEEN GOOD TO ME.**

**I'm so pumped! I've been drawing/writing nonstop! Whoop! I've also been planning farther and farther into this story and am falling more and more in love with it and Taang itself!**

**Disclaimer: Nah, man.**

* * *

_Chapter 7: Criminal Acts_

He has to say, when Toph told him they would be acquiring supplies from town, Aang wasn't expecting this. Maybe he should have, but for some reason, he didn't.

As the comically odd produce salesman struggles shoulder-deep in the ground and Toph fends off what seems to be a small battalion of firebenders, Aang is in the produce stand putting as many fruits and vegetables into a canvas sack as possible. His headband and gloves have been put back onto his body, and Toph wears her triangular piece of cloth on the lower half of her face, for the sake of their identities.

"Any day now, Airhead," Toph yells over her shoulder as she kicks her leg around, sending a chunk of earth the size of Aang's head at that of the nearest officer. A fireball whizzes past her head and into a nearby stone wall, causing a small explosion. The streets are quickly cleared of all civilians, something Aang is silently grateful for.

He shoves more fruit into the bag and turns back to her to retorts accusingly, "One can only steal so fast!" Aang hates that they have to do it, but the Fire Nation has seized almost all farmable land, so the only simple and legal way to get produce is to buy it from them at their outrageous prices.

Toph chose the simple _illegal_ way.

The shop keep continues to yowl out frustrated obscenities just a few feet to Aang's left, screaming things like "My stand!" and "You hooligans!" and "Not the cabbages!"

Aang looks at him momentarily with pity and guilt as he finishes filling the bag and throws it over his shoulder. "I'll pay you back someday!" He yells as he pushes himself onto the counter of the stand and kicks a nearby firebender in the side, making him crumple like a discarded coat. "Sorry!"

Toph scoffs at his apology to the fallen man and sends another flying with a pillar of earth. "There's no room for sissies in this world, Twinkles!" Her voice is sarcastic, but holds an element of seriousness.

"You needn't worry about me," he replies, attempting to sound sly as he elbows a red-clad man with a flowing goatee and shiny head in the chin, sending him flailing. Despite his usual pacifist nature, a part of Aang finds it exhilarating to be back in the fight. To feel his muscles move in ways other than the ashamed trudge he'd adopted sometime in the past few years, to have his knuckles connect with something other than the wall of his own home.

Toph seems to be enjoying it as well; Aang knows how much she used to love to fight, or more specifically _win_, when she was younger. The brown cloth hanging from her belt flies through the air as she spins on her right foot and connects with the last officer's shin with her left. As his knees buckle and he falls forward, she adjusts her legs so his chin collides with her knee. The man's amber eyes roll into his head and he lands face-first with a thud. A cloud of dust surrounds them from the scuffle.

Toph cracks her knuckles and lowers her hands sharply, making the dust flatten at the center and fly away from them in all directions but at their faces. As the area is cleared of the tan cloud, Aang can see just how many men the petite woman took down and in how many intricate ways; his response is a slack jaw. Toph claps her hands together as if to rid them of dirt and then rests them on her hips. "That was easy," she says in a self-complimenting manner.

Aang chooses not to respond as he follows her out of the unconscious-body strewn area, being careful not to step on any of them while Toph could care less if her feet land on a few chests. They make their way out of the square and towards the outskirts of Lu Ren, for what Aang hopes to be the last time. The town itself isn't completely horrid, but the thought of the life he led there puts a stale taste in his mouth.

Eventually, he inquires, "What's our next step?" There's a new bounce in his words and step, a child-like bubbling that he hasn't felt since he could airbend in public without fear of apprehension.

Toph points to the stretch of forest to their left. "We're headed east, so the quickest way to get far away from civilization, more specifically those fire fairies, would be to go past the coal mines and travel alongside the woods near the edge of the cliff."

A picture of the area appears in his mind; though he's only seen it from afar, Aang can imagine the wooded area hugging the steep cliff side, leaving just ten yards or so between the outermost tree and a fall to your death. Based on both of their histories, a dangerous walk beats having to constantly run from the law. Aang doesn't bring up the concept of having to find a way to locate their friends to save them both the imminent stress.

After they get nearly two hundred yards from Lu Ren, some sort of animal noise is audible from the woods. Aang turns his head slightly and is met with the sight of a long tail, bat-like wings, and one of the only pairs of ears that are larger than his.

"Momo!" Aang smiles wide as the lemur lands on his shoulder. He reaches into his bag full of produce and sifts through it until he finds a peach-berry that he places into Momo's greedy paws. "It's great to have you back, buddy." _For good this time, _Aang thinks as he scratches the animal between the ears.

Toph scrunches her eyebrows together as if pondering something and straightens them out even faster.

The millisecond of shifting expressions doesn't go unnoticed to Aang. "What?"

Toph's shoulders rise in a momentary shrug. "I dunno. It's just…_weird_ to hear your twinkly ramblings in a voice that's so…" She breaks off in search of a suitable word.

"Mature, grown up?" Aang tries with pride in his voice.

"I was leaning towards not-so-twinkly," she responds with an evident, sarcastic laugh in her voice. He can picture her smirk. "But whatever floats your boat."

0o0

Their walk to the coal mines seems much too short to Aang, and sooner rather than later he can see the outline of his old workplace. Funny thing is, even though the workers should still be deep underground, there are people outside the mouth of the mine.

"Toph," he says somewhat quietly in case the men in the quarry have excellent ears. "Do you see those people down there?"

She snorts almost obnoxiously. "Yeah, I see them just fine."

"Good I thought it was ju-" he narrows his eyes at her and slumps his shoulders. "That wasn't funny."

"Yes it was."

Aang turns back towards the men below them and tries to tune out her sniggering. The closer one to them seems familiar to Aang for some reason.

Toph turns on her heels when she realizes that Aang has stopped walking. She grabs his collar and tugs. "C'mon, Twinkles."

Aang peers at the two men, trying and failing to ignore her bothersome pulling. He doesn't understand why the tall man seems so familiar. He's clad in red and black, so he could have been any of the managers at the mine, hold for the unusually regal outfit consisting of armor and a cape. His facial hair coincides with their usual unspoken standards, but then again Aang can only remember seeing sideburns that bushy on one man.

"Zhao!" He exclaims loudly, the covers his mouth with a gloved hand and ducks behind a bush to hide himself, pulling Toph with him by her wrist, dropping the bag full of stolen fruit and vegetables in the process. Momo chitters angrily, and due to his lack of a better solution Aang stuffs the lemur down his shirt. When he sneaks a glance over the topmost branches of the bush, he can see that Zhao is looking around, wondering who just called his name.

"Hello?" He calls to the air, his eyebrows furrowed.

Toph yanks her wrist from his grasp and turns her ear towards the mine. "Who's Zhao?" She asks Aang almost silently.

Aang manages to look over the bush without being seen. "He was a Fire Nation admiral during the 100 Years War. I thought he disappeared in the North Pole a decade ago!"

"Disappeared?"

Aang shrugs but doesn't look away from the confused general. "You know, I'm not really sure what happened. We just stopped seeing him after that battle."

Toph takes his word for it, not really caring because anything involving Zhao took place while she was still locked in her golden cage. "Shush," she tells him sharply as she leans her ear closer. "I want to hear what they're talking about." Aang complies but doesn't stop watching Zhao or his companion.

"-thought I heard someone calling my name," Zhao informs the other man. Aang watches him turn back towards the mine. "So this is where it all happened." It isn't a question, but rather an accusing statement.

"Yes sir," the other man replies. He stands at about Zhao's height but is much less broad and has a much furrier face. "The girl attacked from there," he points almost directly at them, making Aang gulp and duck down, hiding because he knows how dangerous Zhao is and that the two men are discussing him and Toph. "And they escaped through there." Aang can envision him pointing to the farther stretch of woods.

Toph scoffs. "It wasn't really much of an escape. We practically waltzed out of there," she mutters under her breath.

Zhao exhales heavily. "Did any of the men here attempt to follow them?"

"From what they've told me, I think not."

The mine entrance is silent for a few seconds. Then, when she hears Zhao inhale angrily through his nose, Toph just barely pushes Aang's head down and out of the way before a wave of flames flies over the bush, singeing the topmost leaves of the bush.

"Thanks," Aang whispers.

"Don't thank me yet," she replies, sounding somewhat concerned. She points at the top of his head and her nose twitches as if irritated. "I think your hair is burning."

Aang immediately starts rubbing his hair in an attempt to deprive the flame of oxygen, his natural spastic nature making him stand straight up and hop around in an attempt to quench the flames. His erratic movements make Momo chatter loudly and try to fly from his shirt, so Aang sticks his hand into his tunic and pushes Momo down as gently as he can. When he feels his hair and makes sure that the fire is out, he sighs heavily.

Then he notices that Zhao and his companion saw the entire thing, the pair staring at him with perplexed expressions. He hears but doesn't see Toph smack herself in the forehead.

"Who goes there?" Zhao asks gruffly, staring directly at Aang's eyes and only breaking his stare momentarily when he notices the smoke rising from the young man's head.

Aang clears his throat and waves hesitantly. "Err…Flameo, good hotmen! I'm…Li." He breaks off into a fit of nervous chuckles. He steals a glance at Toph to see her rubbing her temples and shaking her head.

Zhao raises a bushy eyebrow at the ancient wording "Li" used. "Yes, _flameo_, Li," he replies in a strange tone. He raises his hand from his side and motions to the bush Aang was hiding behind. "What, _exactly_, were you doing behind that bush?"

Aang darts his eyes around, searching for a fake explanation. The years must have taken a toll on Zhao's vision, being that he didn't call Aang out for not wearing national colors; he must think the tan on his clothing is gold. He looks at the cliff, the trees, the burnt bush, and ends his search when his eyes land on Toph.

She's going to kill him for this.

Aang leans down and grabs Toph by the crook of her elbow, leans in enough so that when he whispers, "Follow my lead", she can hear it, then turns back to Zhao.

"You see, sir," Aang starts, trying not to let his voice shake. "I've been out here for hours looking for my sister here." The idea isn't too far off; he and Toph both have black hair and light tan skin, though hers is significantly lighter than his. Then there's their height difference, but Zhao shows no noticeable signs of not buying Aang's story. Aang leans a little closer and puts a hand next to his mouth as if he were trying to prevent Toph from hearing him. "She's blind," he informs the men as he tries not to laugh. He hears Toph's light snort and squeezes her arm to silence her.

"Brother," Toph says, laying it on _very_ thick. She raises her arms as if to find him, making sure to whap her palm against his face a few times. "Is that you?"

Aang rubs his irritated face and fights to lower her arms. "Yes, sister dear; I'm here."

Zhao nods slowly, though the way he crosses his arms shows his disbelief. "Right," he says, dragging the vowel out. He pinches his nose before looking back at Aang and Toph, the latter now holding Aang's elbow. Zhao condescends, "You would do good to take better care of your crippled, Li."

Aang nods with pseudo respect. "Oh, of course sir." Aang picks up the sac of stolen produce and starts backing away, guiding Toph along, and Zhao doesn't attempt to stop him. Aang waves in goodbye, and Zhao raises a hand to acknowledge him, that being the last thing Aang sees before he disappears into the forest.

0o0

Next to Zhao, Colonel Yuong scoffs.

"What a strange pair," he says to the admiral. Zhao keeps his eyes trained on the section of woods Li and his blind sister slipped into.

"Quite," he nearly mumbles. He blinks as if to clear his mind and turns back to Yuong. "But then again, what else can be expected of colony people?"

"Right you are, sir. Right you are."

0o0

"I can't believe they bought that!"

Toph leans down and rests her hands on her knees, victorious laughter bubbling from her mouth. Aang sits just a few feet away, taking occasional bites from an apple and ripping grapes off a vine and throwing them to Momo. He chuckles airily and swallows a mouthful of the fruit. "I guess you've still got that scammer blood."

"Once a con artist," Toph starts, "always a con artist." She walks over to the discarded bag of food and takes out a bunch of berries. "_Oh, help me brother dearest,_" she mimics her previous doe-minded tone to a tee. "_I'm too __**crippled**__ to do anything for myself._"

Aang laughs much louder now and feeds Momo the last grape. "Maybe he didn't really buy it," Aang wonders jokingly. "And he just let us go because he felt bad."

She snorts. "That seems more like it. I mean, seriously; you were looking for your blind sister in _a charred bush_."

Aang shrugs meekly with a wide grin. "It's not my fault; she's known to be wily."

Toph chortles behind bunch of berries before picking one and popping it into her mouth. She raises an earth backrest and leans back, laying one of her legs over the other.

Now this, this familiarity and laughter is what Aang has been missing. So many years of pulsing silence can't even hold a flame to just being himself with an old friend. It almost seems like they were separate for ten days rather than ten years.

"Are we camping here?" Toph asks eventually, but based on her body language Aang can tell that she doesn't plan on looking for another place to stop for the night.

Aang opens a hole in the ground and drops his apple core into it before closing it back up. "Sounds like a decent plan," he replies. Within the next second, Toph has slammed her arms down, raising a tent above her head.

"I'm set."

Aang smiles before bending his own tent, but he leaves a section of the roof open so he can still see the dark blue hue of the near-nighttime sky. "Me too." He lies back in his tent and watches the peaceful sky that's like a giant silk blanket, waiting for the first star of the night to appear an interrupt the constant aqua.

Aang can't explain it, but he feels completely exhausted. Toph must feel similarly, being that she hasn't opened her mouth in the past few minutes.

"Hey, Toph?" Aang asks in an almost silent voice, fully confident that she can still hear him.

And hear him she does. "Hmm?" The strange calm radiating from her becomes even more evident when she releases the simple sound in acknowledgment to his call, so much so that he rethinks asking the question he has in mind. Despite how much he dislikes the idea of pulling her from contentment and unintentionally destroying her calm demeanor, the knowledge he seeks seems to be, to him at least, of high necessity.

"What happened to Gaoling?"

His inquiry is met by silence. It seems even the conglomerate of trees around them are holding a pained breath.

Aang sneaks a peak into Toph's tent; she isn't reclining any more. She now sits with only one side of her body facing him, legs crossed, her shoulders slumped. Aang swallows the lump in his throat.

"It's gone," she finally manages in a wavering voice. "Everyone abandoned it when they heard that you lost. Some didn't make it out in time." Her voice hitches and she clenches her fists. "It was transformed to piles of rubble by a passing assemblage of the Fire Nation Army, and I'm sure after a decade of looting no one would ever look at it and believe that it was once one of if not _the_ wealthiest town in the entire Earth Kingdom." Her eyes are downcast now, like the embers of an extinguished green flame. Her head falls, turning her bangs into midnight curtains. Aang can't wrap his mind around Toph being this distraught and missing the town that was practically a prison to her, even if it was her home town. Then he realizes.

She must be thinking of her parents.

Aang looks on her not with pity, but with understanding. He's felt that kind of pain before.

He doesn't say anything, though, knowing that she'd never accept a comforting hand. Instead, he curls up in his tent and stares intently at the wall of his tent. Despite the suddenly heavy air and the knowledge that Toph is more upset than he's ever seen her, he manages to fall asleep.

0o0

The sky is pitch black when Aang opens his eyes again, stars dotting nearly every inch of it now.

He couldn't have been sleeping for long, his eyes feel too heavy. He sits up and rubs his eyes with his hand before running it through his hair. That's when he sees it.

The empty tent opposite his.

Now Toph could have many reasons for leaving in the middle of the night, Aang knows that. He also knows that she wouldn't go very far if she left for a normal reason.

He rests a flat palm on the ground and 'listens', just as the woman in question taught him so many years ago when she was barely a teenager. It's been a while since he's done it, but one doesn't easily forget how to listen to an element.

She's not within a mile of him. Not a mile and a half. Not even two.

Where ever she'd planned on going, she was obviously on a mission.

Perhaps Aang should leave her be. He can go back to sleep without worry, as he can count on her to be back in the morning when he wakes up again. But, being himself, he can't. He's worried about her.

Not only that, but he has a pretty good idea about where she went.

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**To be continued…**

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**~CCC16**


	8. Chapter 8: Beside the Dying Fire

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_Chapter 8: Miscalculations_

The only light in the room is the dim glow of the deadly blue flames, moving around her as if living and breathing, but contained by her calm, but never peaceful breathing patterns as she sits, calm as she could ever be but still coiled and positioned to spring.

The illumination caused by the cerulean flames crawl up the maroon walls, slipping their way up to the similarly colored ceiling. The ominous light the fire causes seems to almost consume the walls surrounding her without being nearly as bright as any other light source could be, a strange thing she notes as she sits in silence.

The only noise tearing through the desirable silence is the crackling of her flames, a sound that has never comforted her like it may have others. To her, fire isn't warmth or the sound of a safe home. Fire is a tool of war, tamed only by those who can't be tamed themselves, only by the strong. The weak are consumed by fire, burned alive because of their incompetence.

Her fire is especially one to fear. Hotter than hot, people combust just thinking of it. And her lightning…her lightning instills fear in even the bravest of men.

She sits cross legged at the back of her throne room, shoulders straight and eyes narrowed. Her hair, the strands worth more than what the majority of people make in their entire lives, combed up in an elegant top knot. Upon her slim shoulders is ornate blood red armor with gold trimming and ebony undersides. Two thin strands of her hair hangs down to frame her face; her pretty, lightly-blushed, red-lipped face.

Her eyes are like a family heirloom; every leader before her has had the golden orbs, the feature like a staple in the royal family tree. Hers appear to be burning, but are at the same time as cold as an ice pick through skin. They are as calculating as a lioness eyeing her prey through the tall grass, the poor being just feet from its demise, its fate resting in her sharpened claws.

She has no advisors. She does what she wishes in the way she chooses to, so having people help her make decisions is unnecessary. Moreover, how could you trust such people? They could go around passing your secret plans to every peasant who walks past.

The same applies to her family. Agni only knows where her brother and mother are.

Poor, poor Zuzu. He couldn't handle the royal life. He wouldn't be able to govern like she does. That's why he's probably dead in a ditch somewhere, a lighting scar over his heart. Like she said, fire consumes the weak. It chars the spineless.

And then her mother; a mindless, kind woman with that patient way about her and cruelly sweet smile that almost made Azula love her…

Azula scowls so deep her face muscles twitch under the pressure. It doesn't matter. Ursa is dead. Her father has confirmed that fact time and time again.

Her father. Ozai the Phoenix King. The man who makes the thunder tremble with every syllable he utters. The slayer of the Avatar, body and spirit. He rules the world, and therefore her.

She still isn't sure how she feels about that.

Not that it matters very much. He sits atop a higher throne than she does. That being said, though, he doesn't go out of his way to try and run her nation, so she's grateful for that. Well…as grateful as a woman like her can be.

She peers around the perfectly dark room, from the stone pillars lining the deep red carpet running from the entrance of her throne room to the base of said throne. She likes her throne room; it's void of worries, just like her mind. What is there to worry about when you rule your country with the tightest of fists?

Something grumbles in the base of her abdomen. Ah, it must be nearing midday, therefore her lunch break isn't too far off. Being that she has no windows in this room, she has no aspect of time other than her highly-tuned body that can now predict the time down to the minute.

Slowly, she uncoils herself from her previous sitting position, stretching her arms slowly above her head and opening her red-lipped mouth in a yawn; being the ruler of the most powerful nation of the world can be exhausting.

Azula steps down from her seat and onto the main hallway of the room. Lowering her hands and breathing out slowly, she lowers the flames behind her until they are barely three inches tall. She never extinguishes her fire, though. No one can contain her blue fire but her, and she likes to display that fact by keeping it alive and crackling all day long.

Her boots, black and elegantly curled at the toes, make no noise as they take her down the long red tongue of a carpet. The beautifully blood-colored fabric is the only adornment her pristine, polished mahogany floors have, something nearly all of the few people who have seen her throne room find incredibly strange. Wouldn't it make more sense, they muse, that an opulent and omnipotent woman like herself to surround herself with the finest of things? The idea itself pulls a snort from the Fire Lord; it's not the possessions she'd sought after her entire life, it was the raw power and authority, the kind that made everyone bow in fear before her and not once doubt her word. _That_, to Azula, is the meaning of being a ruler.

As they are every day, the beautifully carved double doors are opened before her. The expensive wood depicts a valiant image of a spirit being tamed by a mere mortal. The man holds reigns that reside in the back of the horrifyingly great spirit's mouth and pulls them with all his might, making the spirit rear onto its hind legs, clawed forepaws high in the air.

Azula loves her hand-carved doors.

The crimson-clad doormen bow respectfully as she walks proudly passed, head held high. The motion is caught only by her peripherals; the lowly, peasant scum are not worth her entire gaze.

She stalks down the maroon corridor, admiring the flickering red flames that illuminate the area. They provide a sort of sickly accenting to the many paintings adorning the walls, the paintings of past royal families, past fire ladies, and of course, past fire lords. The walls are dark scarlet with gold lining starting from the similarly colored molding and running halfway up the wall like ram-rod straight fingers. Azula halts her stride and turns on her heels, cocking her head at one of the newer paintings. She usually loves to watch the lifelike children of a talented brush, to hold their never-wavering amber gaze as long as physically possible before she turns away and allows herself to blink. She admires the crisp red and black depictions of the robes of her predecessors, and she especially enjoys observing how they have changed through the centuries.

But this picture is making her angry. This painting is making her eye twitch.

Her sharp ears pick up the sound of retreating feet in one of the hallways that breaks off from the one she's in. She can easily guess who they are, based on the light, almost nonexistent clatter of her feet as she tries to avoid her angered master and the lack of clattering armor that any many in her beautiful home would adorn

Azula curls her lips into a snarl and clasps her hands behind her back. "Junshin," she calls to her levelly, though any of her subjects can unfortunately detect the hidden rage.

The poor young woman is no exception. Junshin's shoulders crumble as she hears her name escape from her liege's mouth, her green eyes sliding closed in defeat. She should have known better than to offer to serve the Fire Lord; she should have accepted the death sentence given to all of her fellow Earth Kingdom refugees. Groveling and begging for mercy had seemed reasonable at the time, but after descrying that such raw animosity could be directed at her – and for it to be coming out of her merciless lord's lips – she realizes now that death would have been the better road to take.

Junshin steps backwards until she is standing just a few yards behind Azula and bows deeply, hands clasped in front of her. "Yes, my lord?"

Azula removes one of her hands from under her floor-length shawl and observes her well-manicured yet unpolished nails. "What is your one occupation?"

The young woman feels a cold sweat break out at her hairline and slide, painfully slowly, down past her eye, down the peak of her cheek, before materializing at her chin and falling to the carpeted floor in one drop. "T-to decorate your hallways with art made by only the finest of the Fire Nation's artists, sir."

Azula raises her eyebrows slowly, a look of mockery on her face. She absolutely _adores_ toying with her pitiful subjects. "Then explain to me, Junshin," she continues in her usual passive-aggressive manner. "What, in Agni's revered name, is that?" With a long finger tipped with a claw like nail, she motions to the picture of her family, from her mother's frightened but docile expression to her brother's ashamed and confused frown. Her father painted counterpart wears nothing other than his usual arrogant scowl; the only one smiling is a younger Azula, her lips curled into a smirk that can only be described as hellishly devious.

Azula's foreign-born subject looks at her leader a bit strangely, forgoing her fearful respect for a moment as she is consumed with confusion. "A lovely painting of the Fire Lord's family, miss. I'd found it gathering dust in the lower levels of the palace and I thought-"

"Ah," Azula interrupts dryly. "There lies your mistake." She prowls up to Junshin in all of her horrifying majesty, making the teenage girl's respectful façade burn to pity-worthy ashes. Junshin can only pray that her mistake won't cost her too much. Maybe a lifetime in prison, or one consisting of hard labor. Whatever may be headed her way, it's all the dark-skinned girl barely contains her squeak of fear. Azula spits, "You don't live beneath me to _think_, you foolish child."

Junshin can't stop shaking enough to reply. Her fragile heart seems ready to rip itself from her heaving chest and dash far away from the frightening woman.

"Why did I give you this job, Junshin?" Azula inquires somewhat off-topically when it becomes painfully obvious that her servant will not be responding. Her golden eyes narrow even more as they demand the attention of Junshin's shrunken pupils that are seemingly drowning in her medium-green irises.

To her credit, the younger woman shields some of her fear with a heavy swallow as she prays for her life. "S-so I wouldn't b-be sentenced to death, miss." Junshin lowers her gaze respectfully, her fingers rapidly curling around and releasing the hem of her ratty, oversized tunic. "I am still very grateful for her majesty's mercy."

Azula makes a noise of concealed laughter and leans back just enough for Junshin to breath properly. "Well," she maintains in her commanding yet condescending tone. "It would appear that this mistake has rendered your begging no longer able to protect your pitiful soul."

Realization envelopes Junshin and her eyes widen until they seem to be triple their natural size. "No," she pleads weakly, horror crossing her face and clasping its unforgiving hands around her throat. She trembles hard and collapses, falling to her knees and bowing her head so low that her face hovers just millimeters from Azula's feet. "Your majesty, please!"

Azula sneers in contempt at the pathetic mound before her. Of course, pity has never managed to wedge its way into her personality; she has already shown mercy one time too many. "On your feet, filthy peasant!"

When Junshin doesn't comply, Azula takes it upon herself to clasp her hands around her throat, clutching her neck so tightly that her fingernails dig beneath her skin and draw blood. Azula pulls the groveling pile of nothing to a standing position. The fire lord can't help but want to retch at the sight; this woman obviously possesses no pride, having the gal to beg for her life again. How sad.

"Begging will get you nowhere this time," she declares mercilessly, something like uninterrupted rage making her eyes gleam. "Your fate is decided."

Azula can feel her throat contract as she swallows as well as the damp, salty tears that fall from her frightened eyes. She turns away from the revolting sight and exclaims sharply, "Guards! Restrain this pitiful scum!"

Faster than anything, two armored men come up behind Junshin and pick her up, each grasping one of her elbows. The girl looks between them desperately, finding no solace in their skeleton masks. When neither of them so much as incline their heads toward her, she allows her neck to relieve the weight of her head, her chin falling and touching her chest. She can feel the hot blood mixing with her tears and running down her neck and under her tunic. With a definitive sigh, Junshin gives up all hope of salvation and preys to the gods that the end comes quickly.

Azula doesn't even acknowledge her men as she jumps into the air, spinning around and summoning a fire with her foot, a fire that flies from her heel and collides loudly with the painting, burning a hole straight through her mother's eyes before consuming more and more of the painting.

Azula turns back towards the loyal soldiers, face contorted with a mixture of emotions that could drive a man to insanity should he try to understand it. The blue fire she sent flying into the painting has cooled to an angry orange-red, the colors illuminating one side of her quietly crazed face more than the other.

"Follow me," she commands gruffly, spinning around so fast her cape flies up spastically. She stalks down the hallway, shoulders swaying and fists clenched.

"This week's round of executions are happening _**now**_."

0o0

The sultry air of mid-day is no less hot in the Fire Nation than it is anywhere else. The unfortunate souls lined up in a row feel the heat burning at their clothed backs, the burlap over their heads like a mini sauna making their faces damp with perspiration.

The courtyard is cleared of everything but the swaying plane grass and the kneeling "offenders." They feel the occasional wind brush the thin strands against their legs, the feather light caresses like an invitation to the place they are inevitably headed to before the day is done. Their trip there will be, literally, akin to the rings of hell, what with the smell and feel burning flesh and screeches of unbearable agony. Once the initial pain is over, the innocents pray for immaculate salvation, pray to end upjust about anywhere, because anywhere is better than here.

The soldiers will turn a blind eye as the innocent men and woman are set ablaze, not wanting to join them by speaking against their leader's orders. Nay, they will stand in a level line opposite the poor souls as they babble the last hopeful words their lips can manage, close their ashamed eyes, and launch their fiery fists forward, incinerating the wrongly incarcerated men and women.

Azula sits at the head of the field in her palanquin, facing perpendicular to her firing squad. She cocks her head and purses her lips, contemplating how long she wants to make the traitors mentally suffer before she allows the physical pain to commence. She chooses to make them wait, reveling in their shaky shoulders as they kneel before her soldiers, covered eyes unable to predict when the end will come.

The to-be-exterminated closest to her is none other than Junshin. The woman has already lost consciousness twice, thereby lengthening the suffering of those around her.

Azula narrows her eyes after taking a headcount. There are but fourteen of them. Such a small amount compared to her usual standards.

"Men," she barks to her loyal warriors who stand immediately at attention. "Prepare to fire!"

Then, in perfect unison as she'd taught them, the firebenders turn to the side, leaning their weight on their back foot and winding their dominant hand back in preparation.

The people opposite the soldiers suddenly find themselves unable to quiver in fear. They have reached a point, a place where terror means nothing anymore. There is no longer anything on this Earth that can frighten them anymore; they have already accepted the hell they are about to face.

Slowly, Junshin, Azula's personal chef, a handful of servicemen, one of Azula's beauticians, and six more innocent men of diverse occupations raise their blinded eyes to the oncoming threat. They will face death head on, this being their last act of rebellion before they are swallowed whole by the unforgiving throat of the corrupted Fire Nation dictatorship.

Azula crosses her legs and leans forward in anticipation, a sick smile creeping onto her face. She laces her fingers beneath her chin, and with a finalizing yell, commands the death of fourteen of her subjects. Their crimes are simple, maybe even unworthy of death, but in her eyes the hanging of a hated painting or the baking of a bread she detests are traitorous acts, and the performers of such acts should be punished.

The fists of the armored men fly forward with an unwilling force, a few unheard apologies escaping the soldiers' lips as they release their flames. The ground beneath the "traitors", having already been saturated with a flammable substance, goes up immediately, licking eagerly at their bodies. Azula doesn't look away from the broiling men and women, nor does she cover her ears to their piercing, blood curdling screeches. Rather her smile grows as a wicked cackle explodes from her lungs and into the crackling air that has risen from sultry to torrid in a manner of seconds.

"Do you see what you've done now?" She screams rhetorically to her alit subjects. "Do you realize your wrongdoing? Do you see how you've acted against me?!"

Something inside her is cracking, threatening to snap in two and release an even uglier monster than the one that sits in her throne room day by day, rising only when her stomach calls for food. Today was no different, but her hunger has been saturated by something completely different. No amount of cuisine could satisfy her as well or as quickly as a mass execution can. No, the previous rumbling of her stomach could never be as silenced as it is now as she watches their flesh burn, sending human ash to mix with that of the charred grass and a sickly thick grey smoke to rise to the otherwise clear midday sky.

There is no power higher than being able to command the death of so many with just a single word. There is no feeling more infinite than knowing that you command such a power, that you can be so sure that your men, your soldiers, will comply with your every request no matter how deadly or sickening the outcome may be.

This is why fear is so much more efficient than love.

_This_, Azula decides in her unhinged mind as she breaths in the pure stench of death, _is what I was born to do_.

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**Okay, **_**someone**_** deffs forgot to take her happy pills this morning.**

**Before you ignite me like Azula had her peeps do to Junsin and co., I want to apologize for taking so long to update and for making this chapter so short. It's just that I've had terrible writers block recently and I had to give y'all something before you forgot about my story. **

**I have the next chapter in progress as we speak, and it should be much longer and less dark than Azula's. There will be some Toph and Aang interaction, and it should be humorous to say the least. Sorry lovies, no romance yet. As a matter of fact, no romance for a quite a few chapters. I'd say…seven, maybe ten chapters before it even reomtely starts?**

**Please don't kill me!**

**Anywho, as of now you have five options. You could…**

**1. Review**

**2. Follow me/my story/ both**

**3. Favorite my story**

**4. All of the above**

**5. Do nothing and make me think my writing skills amount to zip**

**(Hint: the answer is 4)**

**Forever yours (no matter how creepy that may sound),**

**~CCC16**

**P.s., all I could think while writing about Azula and Junshin was: "You had **_**ONE **_**job."**


	9. Chapter 9: Miscalculations

**Thanks for all of the reviews so far! You all rock!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah**_**no**_**.**

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_Chapter 9: Traveling Again_

When his mind wakes up, his eyes don't open.

He feels like a thousand tons of lead has been piled onto his back, weighing him down, keeping him attached to the ground. His clothes stick to him like they've been soaked in tree sap, a very unwelcome feeling. He feels as if his bones are composed of ice, making his teeth chatter.

Some kind of liquid rushes up from behind him, swallowing his feet, then his calves, and traveling all the way to his upper thighs, amplifying the cold deep inside him and making it new and raw. He can feel something resting under his arm, the thing also shivering when the liquid consumes him. That's when Aang remembers where he is.

Opening his eyes slowly, he tries to recall exactly what happened. All he can clearly remember is jumping off the cliff, landing into the water, and swimming himself and Toph to safety before falling unconscious. The mass under his arm wiggles again, and something bumps into Aang's chin.

He opens his eyes as much as he can manage, the morning sun being his only true foe at the moment. Despite its unmatchable light, the day star sends him no cold-relieving heat.

All that he can see directly in front of him is sand, the coastline of the lake, and more sand. Still squinting, he looks down and sees a mass of damp blackness. He recognizes it to be hair when he feels the tickling of it against his facial-haired chin. Aang shifts a few feet away from the surprisingly soft thing resting under his arm and looks at it fully, never pulling his arm away.

She's still sleeping, her exhaustion most likely due to the flailing she must have done when she landed in the water last night. Her bun is still intact, for the most part; many strands of hair stick out from all angles, the majority of them plastered to her pale face. She lies on her side so she's facing him, her mouth slightly parted as her body breathes peacefully in sleep. While just his boots and the majority of his pants are wet from the rising and falling water of the lake, Toph is wet up to her mid-torso and is visibly shivering, her bare toes curled up due to the cold. Aang's arm is snaked around her lower back, something that must have been done unintentionally while pulling her onto the shore late last night. He pulls his arm away but doesn't move it, though, as he feels the protective gesture may still be necessary; those blue-clad soldiers could be anywhere.

Aang shuffles back into his previous position, moving until Toph's slightly unkempt hair touches his chin again. His muscles feel so heavy that he could almost allow himself to fall back to sleep, to drift off and wake up later feeling at his peak strength. Aang closes his eyes and adjusts his hand so it rests between them, ready to push him into a defensive position. But, until a threat rises, sleep seems to be the most rewarding option. Yeah, that could work. It's not like anyone's around.

Then the poking begins.

For some reason, someone is currently finding it very necessary to poke at his head. Aang groans restlessly and opens his eyes again.

Kneeling above him is a girl no older than the Duke with cropped mousey-brown hair and a curious expression on her face. She has white arm bands and a white collar; the rest of her clothing is blue.

"Oh," she says when Aang opens his eyes. "Hey," she turns and yells to someone that must be behind her. "He's not dead!" The brown-haired girl looks back and pokes Toph in the shoulder repeatedly. "Is she dead?" She asks Aang in a voice that he can only describe as much too loud. Before Aang can even think of trying to respond, an angry, bear-like growl vibrates from Toph's throat.

"I guess that's a yes," the young girl confirms with a slight laugh. Her voice is like her hair: mousey. She has grey-brown eyes and a smile that seems oddly familiar, though not as much as Toph's had been.

Aang looks back at Toph after she grumbles again. Her eyes are fluttering not-so-graciously open now, and she rubs them before pushing Aang out of her way so he no longer stands between her and the newcomer. "I don't need protection from a squirrely little girl, Twinkles," she mutters sleepily.

The teenage girl looks very taken aback. "I…Wha...Little?…_Squirrely_?!" She sputters, tripping over her own tongue as it abandons her.

Toph stretches her arms above her head in a colossal yawn after sitting up straight. "Yeah," she says on the cusp of her yawn. She rubs her dead eyes before smirking her usual smirk. "Squirrely."

Aang tries to contain his chuckles at her remark. Toph inclines her head toward him at his laughter, her face that of someone contemplating something. Her eyes narrow suddenly and just as quickly widen in realization, and whatever she realized makes her punch him hard in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" Aang cries in pain before rubbing his soon-to-be-bruised arm.

"For pulling me over a _cliff_ into a freaking _lake_, Airhead!" Aang shrugs under her angry glare, a perplexed look on his face.

The brown-haired girl backs away but continues to watches them bicker, silent and a tad confused.

"Do you recognize them, Kay?"

Another voice comes up from behind the girl, a deeper feminine one, and the young girl is soon joined by a girl about her age with a bit more maturity set in her eyes and hair that's a few shades darker. She too wears all blue, hold for her white belt.

_What's with all the blue and white?_ Aang asks himself silently.

The first girl cocks her head to the side before standing up to her full height. "Not really," she informs her friend slowly. "Though he does seem slightly familiar."

"I doubt that," the other girl says. "I think you'd remember meeting _him_," she says with a slight wiggle of her eyebrows as she elbows the first girl in the side. The mousey-haired girl blushes slightly.

"Are we done here?" Toph asks bitterly from her spot on the ground. She scratches at her limp hair and yawns again as she adds, "We've got places to be." Using Aang's shoulder to push off, Toph moves so she's standing. She appears to be close to the two girls' height if not an inch or two taller, and it's evident in the accents of her womanly facial structure that she has a few years on the both of them.

"Oh, don't worry about that," the second girl replies in a somewhat taunting manner. "You won't be going anywhere."

"Oh, yeah?" Toph counters with crossed arms. The midmorning sun beams down from the clear sky above, illuminating her fully and leaving an accurately sized Toph-shaped shadow in front of her on the ground. "And who, _exactly_, is going to stop us from leaving?" Aang gets up rather quickly despite his lucid mind, not sure if he means to help his friend or stop the impending fight.

Exchanging quick glances, the two girls grin before setting their eyes back on the older pair. With a movement quicker than a heartbeat, they each whip out a pair of marigold fans that seem to have materialized from nothing. Aang raises his hands defensively, noticing that Toph has already adopted a attack stance.

"We don't have to fight them," he mutters sidelong to her.

Her thin eyebrows narrow. "Are they really giving us much of a choice?" She counters


	10. Chapter 10: Traveling Again Part 1

**I'm so sorry that the beginning of my story is so dark, kind of over-dramatic, and somewhat rushed. It has to be dark and dramatic because of the horrifying world Aang losing to Ozai would surely create, and the rushing is kind of an error on my part but also kind of necessary so we can get to the thick of things without me having to waste time writing twenty filler chapters. The first 9 chapters have been a bit weird for me as well, being that I usually write humorous oneshots/drabbles, not full-on stories, especially not anything this heavy. This is, in fact, my first full Taang story, and I have big plans for it :D**

**Also, I'm really like'n them reviews :] If we could break 100 before chapter 12/13 I'd be ecstatic (and I'd probably write faster)**

**Enjoy this chapter! It's kind of a traveling montage ;D**

**Disclaimer: Yeah**_**no**_**.**

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_Chapter 10: Traveling Again Part 1_

When his mind wakes up, his eyes don't open.

He feels like a thousand tons of lead has been piled onto his back, weighing him down, keeping him attached to the ground. His clothes stick to him like they've been soaked in tree sap, a very unwelcome feeling. His bones seem frozen down to the marrow, almost as if they're incased in ice, and the feeling make his teeth chatter relentlessly

Some kind of liquid rushes up from behind him, swallowing his feet, then his calves, and traveling all the way to his upper thighs, amplifying the cold deep inside him and making it new and raw, like ice water is in his veins. He can feel something resting under his arm, the thing also shivering when the liquid consumes him. That's when Aang remembers where he is.

Opening his eyes slowly, he tries to recall exactly what happened. All he can clearly remember is jumping off the cliff, landing into the water, and swimming himself and Toph to safety before falling unconscious. The mass under his arm wiggles again, and something bumps into Aang's chin.

He opens his eyes as much as he can manage, the morning sun being his only true foe at the moment. Despite its unmatchable light, the day star sends him no cold-relieving heat.

All that he can see directly in front of him is hot, tan sand, the coastline of the lake, and more sand. Still squinting, he looks down and sees a mass of damp blackness with a few loose tendrils sticking outside of the main clump. He recognizes it to be hair when he feels the tickling of it against his facial-haired chin. Aang shifts a foot or so away from the surprisingly soft thing resting under his arm and looks at it fully, never pulling his arm away.

She's still sleeping, her exhaustion most likely due to the flailing she must have done when she landed in the water last night. Her bun is still intact, for the most part; many strands of hair stick out from all angles, the majority of them plastered to her pale face. She lies on her side so she's facing him, her mouth slightly parted as her body breathes peacefully in sleep. While just his boots and the majority of his pants are wet from the rising and falling water of the lake, Toph is wet up to her mid-torso and is visibly shivering, her bare toes curled up due to the cold. Aang's arm is snaked around her lower back, something that must have been done unintentionally while pulling her onto the shore late last night. He pulls his arm away gently as to not wake her.

Aang shuffles back into his previous position, moving until Toph's slightly unkempt hair touches his chin again. His muscles feel so heavy that he could almost allow himself to fall back to sleep, to drift off and wake up later feeling at his peak strength. Aang closes his eyes and adjusts his arm so it rests between them, ready to push him into a defensive position. But, until a threat rises, sleep seems to be the most rewarding option.

Then the poking begins.

For some reason, someone is currently finding it very necessary to poke at his head. Aang groans restlessly and opens his eyes again.

Kneeling above him is a girl no older than the Duke with cropped mousey-brown hair and a curious expression on her face. She has white arm bands and a white collar; the rest of her clothing is blue, much like the soldiers who'd invaded their camp last night.

"Oh," she exclaims in surprise when Aang opens his eyes. "Hey," she turns and yells to someone that must be behind her. "He's not dead!"

The brown-haired girl looks back and pokes Toph in the shoulder repeatedly. "Is she dead?" She asks Aang in a voice that he can only describe as much too loud. Before Aang can even think of trying to respond, an angry, bear-like growl vibrates from Toph's throat.

"I guess that's a no," the young girl confirms with a slight laugh. Her voice is like her hair: mousey. She has grey-brown eyes and a thin smile that seems oddly familiar, though not as much as Toph's had been. Maybe Aang had passed her in a crowd at some point in the past. He couldn't be sure; he scans his mind but finds no clear memory of the light haired girl.

Aang looks back at Toph after she grumbles again. Her eyes are fluttering not-so-graciously open now, and she rubs them before pushing Aang out of her way so he no longer stands between her and the newcomer. "I don't need protection from a squirrely little girl, Twinkles," she mutters sleepily.

The teenage girl looks rather derailed, brownish eyes splayed wide. "I…Wha...Little?…_Squirrely_?!" She sputters, tripping over her own tongue as it abandons her.

Toph stretches her arms above her head in a colossal yawn after sitting up straight. "Yeah," she says on the cusp of her yawn. She rubs her dead eyes again before smirking her usual smirk. "Squirrely."

Aang tries to contain his chuckles at her remark. Toph inclines her head toward him at his laughter, her face that of someone contemplating something. Her milky, lifeless eyes narrow suddenly and just as quickly widen slightly in realization, and whatever she realized makes her pull her arm back and wallop him in the arm, hard.

"Ow! What was that for?" Aang cries in pain before rubbing his soon-to-be-bruised arm.

"For pulling me over a _cliff_ into a freaking _lake_, Airhead!" Aang shrugs under her angry glare, a perplexed look on his face.

It's this part of their friendship, the bickering and yelling, that seems to be the main way they're able to communicate at this point.

Lovely.

The brown-haired girl backs away but continues to watches them squabble, silent and a tad confused.

"Do you recognize them, K?"

Another voice comes up from behind the girl, a deeper feminine one, and the young girl is soon joined by a girl about her age with a bit more maturity set in her eyes and hair that's a few shades darker. She too wears all blue, hold for her white belt.

_What's with all the blue and white?_ Aang asks himself silently.

The first girl cocks her head to the side before standing up to her full height. "Not really," she informs her friend slowly. "Though he does seem slightly familiar."

"I doubt that," the other girl says. "I think you'd remember meeting _him_," she says with a slight wiggle of her eyebrows as she elbows the first girl in the side. The mousey-haired girl blushes slightly.

Toph asks bitterly from her spot on the ground, "Are we done here?" She scratches at her limp hair and yawns again as she adds, "We've got places to be." Using Aang's shoulder to push off, Toph moves so she's standing. She appears to be close to the two girls' height if not an inch or two taller, and it's evident in the accents of her womanly facial structure that she has a few years on the both of them.

"Oh, don't worry about that," the second girl replies in a somewhat taunting manner. "You won't be going anywhere."

"Oh, yeah?" Toph counters with crossed arms. The midmorning sun beams down from the clear sky above, illuminating her fully and leaving an accurately sized Toph-shaped shadow in front of her on the ground. "And who, _exactly_, is going to stop us from leaving?" Her light eyes send an insubordinate, blind glare their way.

Aang gets up rather quickly despite his lucid mind, not sure if he means to help his friend or stop the impending fight. He steps back so he's standing beside Toph, eyes flitting between her cold, unseeing gaze to the stiff forms of the younger girls.

Exchanging quick glances, the two girls grin before setting their eyes back on the older pair. With a movement quicker than a heartbeat, they each whip out a pair of marigold fans that seem to have materialized from nothing. Aang raises his hands in front of his torso defensively after noticing that Toph has already adopted an attack stance.

"We don't have to fight them," he mutters sidelong to her.

Her thin eyebrows narrow. "Are they really giving us much of a choice?" Toph counters deftly, stomping her foot forward to make the ground beneath the fan-wielding girls tremble. As they stumble, she kicks the earth, her toes digging in, churning up the ground and sending the disturbed earth their way. At the end of the disrupted ground's trail, rock spires shoot from the ground and hit either girl in the abdomen, not injuring them terribly but still sending them reeling.

Not wanting to have Toph do everything, Aang thrusts his stiff arms right then left before raising them abruptly, creating a heavy dust cloud to cover their retreat.

The two young women stand up slowly, groaning in pain as they retrieve their discarded fans from the ground. By the time they turn back to the cloud, coughing as it irritates their lungs, their fans at the ready again, the dust has begun to settle and the two mysterious earthbenders are gone.

_0o0 Nine Days Later 0o0_

Toph turns her blind gaze towards him from over her shoulder, the bustling town behind her completely unaware that they're within ten feet of them. Toph's stolen crimson get-up hangs off her a bit loosely, very similar to the one she wore so many years ago in the Fire Nation. "You ready?"

Aang tightens his headband, musses his hair about, and shakes his red-clad shoulders a bit before giving her a thumbs up. "Yup."

She turns her back to him, her hands clutching the corner of one of the buildings that creates the alley they're currently hiding in. Her garb makes her look younger than she is, like she's gone back in time and put her present-day soul into her twelve year-old body. A smirk graces her lips, an evil one that Aang knows all too well. "Let's do this."

Nodding curtly, Aang slips past her and walks casually into the town plaza.

This will mark the fourth time they've scammed to get supplies as well as the seventh town they've passed through on their way to locate the scattered members of the Gaang. Their travels have been a bit…rocky, to say the least. After just ten days of being in each other's presence, any amount of odd-feelings between them have evaporated, leaving them with nothing but everything they had ten years ago. Aang finds it very comforting that Toph's cocky, brash demeanor hasn't changed very much from the way it was back then. He knows that he can count on her stability to act as a stable sense of normalcy, and that fact is immensely reassuring.

However, with their revived relationship has come the teasing and bickering that ran rampant between them when they were children. Toph takes every chance she gets to make a snide remark regarding what he's doing wrong, and, even at nearly twenty two years old, she still refuses to call him by his first name.

And he wouldn't change it if he could.

Peering about with his peripherals, Aang meanders through the crowd, using his superior height to see over heads and find the stand Toph had pointed out earlier, all the while trying to avoid drawing suspicion.

His keen eyes locate the stand quickly. It's a medium-sized caravan full too many different types of produce to count: fruits and vegetables and even some nuts, all of so many different varieties and colors that the excited sight almost makes his eyes hurt. Next to the produce stand is a metal-works caravan with pots, pans, and things of the like hanging from nails slammed into the wooden walls of the large cart.

Aang whistles to himself as he makes his way to the fruit stand, a look of forced innocence plastered to his face. A man tips his head towards him in respectful acknowledgement, and Aang responds with a raise of his hand.

He finds himself smiling after that small exchange. It may be a very normal and human thing, but being acknowledged makes him feel like he's finally not blending himself to the mixture of mindless civilians Ozai has painted onto the world.

Above it all but still focusing on the task at hand, Aang approaches the merchant with a jubilant grin. "Good morrow my kind hotman," he greets with a flick of his hand.

The man chooses to ignore his outdated language as he nods back. He's a stout man with sunken eyes and a long nose, almost as if the latter appendage was stretched to belie his miniscule organs. His beard looks coarse to the touch. "What kind of fruit are you searching for, young man?"

Aang, still smiling in pseudo naivety, shakes his head slowly in accordance to Toph's plans. She's proven to be almost as mad a genius as Bumi when it comes to devilish ideas, though without all the insane snorting and giggling, not to mention that she's not a one hundred and twenty two year old man. Speak of the woman, she's already slipped out from between the buildings and is meandering through the crowd. He can sense her nearing him, but he doesn't turn around for fear of ruining the scam.

To the caravan keep, Aang says, "Oh, I don't want any fruit."

The man is unfazed and unaware, right where Toph wants him. "Well that's perfectly alright. You'll want some vegetables, then?"

Toph inches around a mother coddling her child and a round man trying to collect change by playing a broken weed whistle. Her footsteps ate ten feet behind him, two feet to his left.

Aang leans a hand against the worn wood of the stand. "No. I can't afford to buy either."

Toph is behind him now, hidden from the merchant's view due to her inferior size.

Now the bearded merchant is a bit confused. "If you don't have the means to buy my fruit and vegetables, then can I ask you why you're standing at my produce stand?"

Toph leans her back against his, and Aang can picture her smug smirk.

"Because," Aang drawls as he taps his fingers rhythmically against the wood. He taps fast three times then slow twice, and Toph hears the signal loud and clear.

She is surprisingly silent as she clenches her fists and pulls her elbows taught against herself. He feels her shoulder blades shift with every honed shift of her body, and he can almost swear that the otherworldly power she possesses is radiating from her as she effortlessly bends ever knife from the metal-works standoff of their spot on the stand and makes them hover dangerously over the produce merchant's fuzzy face. The man swallows, his face pallor and acquiring the look of a hunted animal

Aang leans forward and Toph moves the blades accordingly, some of them just inches from the man's receding hairline. The knives all seem to curve up at the merchant with Cheshire grins, and each one reflects his haplessly terrified expression.

"You're going to _give _me some food, right, friend?" Aang finishes with excessive kindness dripping from his voice. "Being that I can't buy it, of course."

Fuzzy-Beard appears to be in need of a new pair of trousers. "What are you?" He shakes tremulously, his eyes splayed wide enough that Aang can see the dull green sprinkled within the brown in his irises. "Some kind of demon god?"

"No," Aang replies, though he throws his voice in a way that makes him seem all powerful; Toph isn't fazed, being that he can hear her squelched snickers. He leans forward even more so his nose is touching the merchant's beak.

"I'm just a _**really**_ hungry man."

_0o0 One Week Later 0o0_

"I'm telling you, we're lost."

Aang scoffs and whips the map forward in an attempt to straighten it out. "Toph, my people were nomads," he refutes. "We traveled _everywhere_. There's no way we could ever be lost when I have the map."

Top would roll her eyes if she could. "Even if that map is upside down?" She tosses over her shoulder.

"What?" Aang's eyes shoot down to the paper in his hands and he looks closely at it. "What are you talking ab-" his expression drops as he remembers her blindness. "Oh."

Up ahead by just a few feet, Toph sniggers and puts her arms behind her head as she walks. "You waltzed yourself into that one, Twinkles."

Aang just sighs and goes back to reading the map. Could they be lost? It was possible if not highly likely. Would he ever admit that to her? _No_.

He steals a few quick glance at her back while they walk. In all honesty he shouldn't expect anything but her quips and snide comments, being that he's traveled with her before. Maybe he'd secretly been holding the hope that the years had softened her razor-sharp wit and made her a bit more open to accept other people's feelings and opinions. She had almost seemed that way back when they'd been with her group of refugees, but with every passing day since they left, she'd been falling back into her old routine.

_Maybe she is_, he muses to himself. _But you just have to become very close to her in order to see that part of her._

Aang just shrugs and returns his eyes to the paper in his hands. They pad down the forest path without any set destination, really. All they know is that they're looking for their lost friends, so they travel between towns, stopping at every one no matter how small, and try to gather information on what any sort of war prisoner or refugee of any kind may have succumbed to. They've had to be very discreet and unspecific with their questions as to not raise suspicion, and every time they ask they typically get one, or, or a combination of these answers: imprisoned, assigned as a servant to Azula, or dead.

That being said, the pair of them haven't wandered from the path they'd set for themselves; Aang's visions hinted at their friends being alive, and they're going to hold fast to that hope.

"So," Toph calls, elongating the vowel. "Where are we, again?"

Aang turns the map sideways as well as his head, eyebrows raised, perplexed. "I have no idea."

She turns herself around and grins in victory. "Hah! I knew it! You have no idea where we're going!"

"And that's a good thing because…?"

Her smile collapses and she halts her backwards stride. Aang stops next to her and looks down at her face as she narrows her thin eyebrows.

"...Just read the damned map."

Aang obliges, though he isn't sure how much good it will bring them, if any at all, being that he's just noticed that the map _had_ in fact been upside down the whole time.

_0o0 Two Days Later 0o0_

Toph stretches her legs out next to the small fire Aang had started a bit earlier in order to cook dinner. Momo is curled in her lap, practically purring as she seldom scratches his head between his ears. Aang sits across from her, one hand on his full stomach, the other resting on his one bent knee; his other leg lies straight out in front of him.

He looks up and observes the stars silently, thinking back to when he used to gaze at the beautiful faraway orbs of light with Sokka and Katara. Their names are still like an ice pick to his heart, but the pain is significantly less now that it's entirely possible that they're still alive somewhere, even if it's in this crazy, messed-up world.

His light eyes fall back down to his traveling companion. Is she feeling the rush of memories as well? She must be; the lazy way her eyes capture the moonlight insinuates that she's lost somewhere in the catacombs of her own mind.

"What was it like for you?" She asks suddenly. "To be alone for so long? It must have stunk something awful."

Aang shrugs, though he doesn't really think his decade of loneliness can be brushed off so easily. "You get used to the quiet, especially when you're a mourning masochist most of the time." He watches her bangs ghost wind-caused caresses on her face. "What about you? What made you want to lead a group as big as that?"

Her eyes lower and her expression hardens. "I have my reasons," she replies brashly. "But I think the main reason was to create a sense of normalcy in my life." Toph leans her head back against the earth she'd raised as a back rest and chuckles. "Being that I'm a borderline loon, doing so wouldn't have been possible without them."

He nods slowly in understanding. His next question is asked without much thought:

"And your parents?"

Toph grimaces and ceases petting the lemur in her lap. His inquiry didn't need much more elaboration than that. "I'm as over it as I ever will be."

"Did putting those flowers on their grave help?

She shrugs idly, though her expression still holds the weight she'd tried to brush off. "I guess; sorry you had to see that, by the way. I was a bit overdramatic, wasn't I? Talking to my dead parents."

Aang shakes his head and rests his hands in his lap. "Not necessarily; I used to have full conversations with you and the rest of or group in my dreams."

That's the complete truth; on the nights when he wasn't plagued by nightmares, he would dream that he was sitting around the campfire with his friends chatting the night away. The dreams had almost felt real, but when he noticed that he grew older and his mental images of his friends didn't, they began to feel like a cold lie.

Toph tilts her head in confusion. "Did your mind do that on purpose as a way to make us live on in your subconscious?" She doesn't add: _Even after you thought we were dead?_

He shakes his head again. "I think it was more of a way to numb the pain more than anything else." Aang half smiles at her as her expression slowly relaxes. "I think having the real thing is better."

Yes, he realizes slowly. Having her around has improved his whole view on life significantly, not to mention that he's smiled and laughed more in the past two and a half weeks than he has in the past ten years.

Toph grins wide with her eyes closed, arching her back and cracking her joints in order to get comfortable on the ground. "You bet your twinkly butt it is."

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**Thank you all for favouriting, following, reviewing, etc. and PLEASE keep it coming! !I love to hear from you! **

**I'll be back sooner next time, I promise!**

**Oh, and to avoid confusion, I'm going to let you all know that we have NOT re-met any members of the Gaang other than Toph and Aang, meaning that neither Sokka nor Katara have made appearances in my story as of late, as some of my readers seem to think. I'm sorry if I confused you.  
**

**~CCC16**


	11. Chapter 11: Traveling Again Part 2

**Thank you to all of you who reviewed: FireHazard101,TaangLilKim, nakala, Hay510, Jasper6509, and the guest reviewers! I love to hear from all of you!**

**Anyways, back to the traveling montage!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of ATLA**

* * *

_Chapter 11: Traveling Again Part 2_

Toph sits up against a rock, ankles crossed, a bored expression on her face as she resides in one of the driest areas surrounding the lake. She can smell the clean air and feel the lack of humidity, so it must be a rather nice day to just sit on the grass and gaze at the beauty of the world, if she could see it, that is.

It's about midday, from what she can tell; the sun's warmth isn't its warmest but she can feel it coming from the sun's typical spring apex. The air currents are a hint as well; Aang had babbled on that morning about how there would be light wind near the middle of the day. When she'd asked him how he knew, he'd simply said that he'd "felt it in his nomad bones." He'd then continued to go one about how his people had been exceptional at predicting the weather due to their impressive spirituality and high tuning with nature.

Toph snorts to herself at the thought of their earlier conversation; _silly monk_.

Speaking of the overgrown man-child, he's been swimming about the miniature mass of water for at least forty minutes now.

"Hey," Toph calls from her rock. "Are you done splashing around yet? We have to keep moving."

She typically isn't one to be the voice of reason, but without Katara around, she's had to be more often than she'd like. Sure, Toph had had to be a reasonable and understanding leader while living in the abandoned arena with the refugees, but now that she's shed that skin and can act like herself again, acting all mother-like shouldn't have to be on her agenda any more.

His joyous laugh and Momo's chattering can be heard from her vantage point, but being that he's half-submerged, Toph can't "see" him at the moment. "Aw, we've been walking about the Earth Kingdom for almost a month now!" He complains, sounding as if he were twelve years old again, something he's been doing more and more lately. Toph muses that his childlike antics as of late are just a way for him to momentarily forget the weight of the world, so she lets it slide for the most part; she knows that he'll forget his past mistakes and present duties for an hour at most before he remembers again, morphing back into the mopey man she'd re-met outside of a coal mine a little bit more than four weeks ago.

That being said, he isn't quite as self-abhorrent as he was a month ago. She can feel his heart shedding the many layers of pain he has managed to accumulate in a decade, very slowly but surely, as each day passes. Toph knows that's what she's sensing in him, because the same exact thing is happening to her as well, though while he's taking baby steps toward a healed soul, she's clawing forward with chipped fingernails, and the steep slope she's traveling up seems forever undefined.

Oh, well. After ten years of faking a smile half of the time, doing it now isn't much of a challenge, especially since she's been doing it less.

"I don't care if we've been wandering around for _three_ months," she retorts hotly, per the norm. "We have a world to save, Twinkles, and we can't even begin to do so without the others."

He doesn't respond initially, so she can presume that he's gone underwater. With a splash and a scatter of reflective water droplets he resurfaces, drenching Momo in the process. He looks over at his old friend and sighs, running a hand quickly back and forth over his hair in an attempt to dry it. "Alright, alright," he concedes finally to her superior reasoning. "Just let me practice one last form before we leave."

Aang gets only an indifferent sound for an answer, so he takes it upon himself to decide that she'd agreed with him. He claps his hands together, feeling the cool water on his bare back as it evaporates, leaving him shivering. With a strong exhale, he senses each individual, tear-sized droplet being repelled from his body as he airbends himself dry, leaving his skin cold and his hair feathery to the touch. Momo tugs at his pant leg and Aang complies, airbending his lemur dry as well, chuckling when the small animal's fur puffs up, seemingly tripling Momo in size.

Aang separates his hands slowly, breathing steadily and calmly. His left wrist twists so his fingers point down to the ground, while his right fingers still point to the sky. He feels the familiar tug of his connection to water churning deep in his abdomen, and he turns his head he pulls forward with his left hand, summoning a stream of water from the lake. It slithers out like a glittering clear snake, but is much shakier than it used to be; he'll have to re-perfect that aspect of his waterbending, he decides. With a stoic expression, he raises the water stream until he can see it in front of his face, the cool, transparent blue making anything he can see through it curvy and misshapen. He spins his hands about and brings them close together so they're parallel to the ground and each other, making the water into the shape of a wobbly sphere. Exhaling with crystalized, crackling breath, he lowers the sphere's temperature until it freezes into a ball of solid ice

The sigh of it is beautiful, he notes, as the ice perfectly reflects the noon-time sun. It resembles a shining diamond as he raises it higher and higher, getting it above his head so it captures and reshoots the sunlight even better. It's almost otherworldly.

Aang adjusts the ice so he's levitating it with only one hand, pulls his free hand back, releases his mental hold on the frozen water so it falls quickly back at him. He punches his fist forward before the ice can hit his head, shattering it into thousands upon thousands of miniature shards that resemble flakes of snow, showering himself with them.

With a momentary grunt and an arm motion quicker than the flick of a whip, he halts the shards' descent so they surround him, frozen in time under his command. Aang exhales again, pulling his arms in a wide circular trail, making the subordinate flakes flow together like an icy wind in a blizzard, unfreeze, and become unfrozen drops. They congregate due to his talented hand, and he's controlling the stream of water again. This time, he's able to hold it much less tremulously. Aang smiles at his own miniature victory, inwardly cheering.

He's been trying to refresh his memory on the basics of the three non-native elements he'd mastered ten years ago, and as the days go on Aang is beginning to recapture his previously shelved talents. If his previous display is any indication, he's very successful in his self-re-teaching.

Aang peacefully returns the water to the lake before throwing his tunic back over his head and pulling his boots back on. His expert hands tie his headband around his head as they've done every day for the past decade, and he allows Momo to land onto his shoulder before calling to Toph.

She rises slowly, taking the time to stretch her arms and crack her hip joints. When she's finished she kicks her foot into the ground, pushing a miniature, dull stone spike to push her small duffle bag off the ground and into her awaiting hand.

Toph meanders over to him finally. "Now that we're finally moving again," she begins incredulously, "I think it's time we form plans on how we're going to come about this week's supplies."

Aang grins as they abandon their camp site. "Oh, I already have a plan."

Her thin eyebrows fly up at that. "_You _thought of a scam?" To his displeasure, she snorts in disbelief, "I doubt that; aren't you against stealing?"

"That hasn't stopped me from helping you do it for the past few weeks," he reminds her somewhat dryly. "And anyway," he hints with a cunning expression, "is it really stealing if we're taking the supplies from criminals?"

Toph allows her face to conform to her inner confusion, a thoughtful look glinting in her cloudy eyes. A sly grin creeps steadily onto her lips as the glint of indecision turns to a glimmer of mischievousness.

"I'm listening."

_0o0 Two Hours Later 0o0_

Pumping her arms, Toph sprints as fast as she can down the port street, a panting Aang to her left and falling behind.

"Forget what I said earlier," she says as she gasps for air. "This was quite possibly the _worst _idea _ever_."

Angry, guttural yowls sound from behind them. Aang turns to look, noticing that the pirates are nipping at their heels and still gaining ground on them. He struggles to speed up, half because he's already exhausted, and half because he's holding a huge basket of stolen fruits.

"It had seemed reasonable at the time I'd suggested it!" He argues, despite the fact that he knows just how stupid a plan it truly was.

"Maybe," Toph half agrees. She pulls him around a corner into an alley in an attempt to shake the very ticked men off their trail, but to no avail. "But stealing from _pirates_? _**Really**_?"

"It would've worked had you not blown a huge hole in their ship while we were sneaking away!"

"Hey, they asked for it!" Toph's eyes narrow at the memory of those revolting men calling her out for being weak; she couldn't let them get away with something like that without any form of retaliation.

Aang glowers. "It was still completely unnecessary!"

Toph raises her hand to smack some sense into him, but then hears the unmistakable whistle of metal cutting through wind. She lowers her head mere milliseconds before the knife lodges itself into the wall behind her head.

Aang casts a quick glance her way. "You okay?"

Toph nods, but touches the top of her head anyway just to be sure. Grumbling, she replies, "I'm fine."

The two of them skid around a corner, almost knocking over an elderly couple in their wake. A Fire Nation officer or two have gotten involved by now, but are currently too busy fighting it out with four or five of the pirates to worry about the two rouge thieves that are wanted in nearly every city on the western coast of what used to be the Earth Kingdom.

Behind them, the captain of the ship Toph all but demolished, a proud, gruesome man with a beard large a dirty enough to harbor a civilization of maggots, yowls, "Faster, me harties! Catch that devilish wench!" A few swords clang and another knife flies Toph's way, this one actually catching her arm and spilling blood. She holds the small wound with her other hand and runs faster.

"Okay, we need a new plan," she huffs, cringing at the feeling of her own blood trickling between her fingers. "And _I'll_ think of it this time."

"Fair enough," Aang replies. He can hear the pirates' footsteps now, so he attempts to speed himself up yet again.

Toph shakes the blood off her fingers and grimaces heavily. "First things first, lose the fruit; it's probably rotten anyway, and you can't really fight with it in your hands."

For lack of a better idea, Aang complies, tossing the basket over his shoulder with a bit of difficulty. When it lands, leaving many a smushed fruit in the middle of the street, he notices that some of the fruit was, as Toph had guessed, rotten.

"Now let's split up," she continues. "That way they'll have to split up too, and it will be much easier to fend off three or four pirates rather than all seven, especially if we get cornered in an alley."

Aang's lips curve downward as his eyes flicker down to her gash. "You sure you'll be okay alone?"

For the first time since before their scam had gone awry, Toph's grimace cracks into a smirk. "Aang, I've been fending for myself nearly my entire life; I'm not about to become dependent because that bastard's knife broke my skin."

Without another word, Toph breaks away from him down the nearest alleyway, giving him a small salute as she does so. Aang continues straight, depending on Toph to be able to find him later using her seismic sense. He steals a glimpse behind him, seeing four men including the captain follow Toph and only three stay on his trail.

Toph feels the four pirates lumbering after her and grins, skidding on her heels in order to stop herself and handle the problem at hand. She catches the lead pirate off guard with her sudden halt, and before he can regain his composure she's already rocketed him into a wall, quickly taking care of one of her four assailants. The second one, a slight man whose heartbeat seems like it should belong to a child, runs at her, his cracked sword raised and swinging. Toph parries his attack with the metal cuff around her left wrist before punching backward with her other hand, ending the third man's attempted sneak attack before it could begin. The sword wielding pirate takes advantage of her moment of distraction, landing a backhanded slap across Toph's face, his knuckles colliding hard with her cheek. Toph grits her teeth and bends a rock spire against his stomach, sending him through the air. He lands a ways away, right on top of the first pirate.

There is almost no noise for a few split seconds, hold for the ambient crashing of the ocean. Then the captain cracks his knuckles. She hears him unsheathe his sword. Toph smirks in response, dramatically tilting her neck to crack it.

"I have to tell ya, lassie," the wide man says in a smoke-damaged voice before pausing to spit. "You've got quite a bit of spunk."

"So I've been told," Toph replies cheekily, positioning her right hand over her left, fingers clawed in preparation to strike.

The captain continues, "I wish ya hadn't destroyed me ship." His boots slither across the dirt ground and his pants rustle. Toph notes that he puts a bit more of his weight on his left foot than his right. "I'd have offered ya a spot aboard it; Yer pirate material, girlie."

She chuckles, making his smile turn to an angry grimace. "If I had a copper piece for every time I've been compared to a pirate," she begins, "I'd be the richest woman in the world."

The captain grins, revealing his yellow, hollowed-out teeth, and one gold molar. "It's a shame that I'll be having to kill you now," he lies without a hint of regret. "I've never been one to harm a pretty lady."

Toph breaks her fighting stance for just a moment to beckon to him with curled fingers. "Bring it."

With a definitive snicker, he jumps at her, pushing off with his left foot, just as Toph had anticipated he would. She slips out of the way and uses a clawed hand to fire a piece of the broken wall at his back. The captain proves to be faster than his vibrations make him seem when he ducks under the rubble and swings his blade at her, the tip of it close to skimming her shirt. Toph skids backwards to evade him, creating a cloud of dust. Her back bumps into the alley wall, and before she can use it as a springboard she feels the cool scratch of metal against her throat. She lowers her head as if accepting defeat, but her hidden smirk betrays the fact that she's nowhere close to losing.

"It's been nice talkin' to ya," the captain taunts her, panting slightly from their short scuffle. "But now I'm gonna put a hole in you, just like you did to me pride."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that."

Toph's eyes narrow in confusion at the male voice that sounds from the entrance to the alley as well as the vibrations that comes with him. The pirate turns to retort, but as he utters but one syllable he's cut short by some kind of blow to his head. Toph hears the projectile whip through the air, hit him right in the temple, and fly right back into what she can assume is its owner's hand. In front of her, the captain hits the ground with a dull thud, his sword clanking against a rock.

The man's voice sounds again, this time with a hint of laughter. "Well, that was anticlimactic." His voice is deep yet not, as if it carried a bit of its pre-pubescent, evidently sarcastic tone along with it as he matured. He pads over to her with heavy, booted feet, and her eyebrows narrow more.

"Are you alrig-"

"You didn't need to butt in like that," she interrupts, shoving a finger against his chest. "I can handle myself."

The man snorts and pushes her hand away. "Yeah, it really seemed like it, what with his sword all up in your face."

"I had a plan!" Toph argues.

"Oh, yeah?" He chortles. "Did it involve being _skewered_?"

Toph groans, rubs her temple, and pushes him to the side with her other hand. "I don't have time for this," she spits. "I suppose I should thank you for your help, as unneeded as it was."

Another voice sounds, a woman this time: "What's going on down here?"

Toph growls under her breath. "Spirits be damned, there's more of you?"

The sound of fans sliding closed comes from where Toph can assume the woman is standing. "Is everything okay?" She's addressing the man, so Toph just crossed her arms and turns her head away.

"Everything's fine," he replies, a smile seeming to have crept into his voice. "I just took care of one of those thugs a second ago; he was about to kill mouthy over there," he adds, jabbing his thumb in Toph's direction.

The woman gasps. "Oh, is she okay?" She walks over to Toph and raises a hand as if to lay it on her shoulder, but she slaps it away.

"I'm fine," she barks defensively. "I don't need you or your obnoxious boyfriend to help me."

As if she didn't get Toph's blatant message of "touch me and you die," the woman runs her fingers over Toph's arm wound and examines it. "This needs to be cleaned and dressed," she informs Toph. "You'll have to come back to our camp so we can help you."

"No!" Toph and the man refute at the same time. The woman looks between them with a questioning look in her eye, her lips a flat line.

Suddenly, feather-light vibrations come dashing into the alley, signifying Aang's arrival; he must have already taken care of the pirates that had been trailing him.

Aang takes in the sight of an angry looking, tall, dark-skinned man in a sleeveless blue top with white fur accenting and a boomerang in his hand, and an angry looking Toph being held by the wrist by a very confused looking auburn-haired woman. "What's going on?" He asks breathlessly, taking a step towards them.

Toph sighs in relief at his familiar voice and footsteps. "Thank the spirits." She pulls away from the woman's grip and walks to Aang's side. "I took care of Beard-Face and his cronies then these two nutcases showed up," she informs him with a deadpan.

"She was about to be killed," the man butts in, crossing his bare arms and pouting after he does so. "I saved her ungrateful life."

"Sokka!" The woman scolds, hitting him on the arm with the flat of one of her fans. "Now's not the time to be a baby!"

Aang performs a mental double take, his ears unable to believe what they'd heard. "Sokka?" He ponders aloud. Aang looks the man over, from his muscular build to his pony-tailed hair. He turns to Toph and takes relief in the fact that she looks almost if not just as shocked as he feels.

"It's not my fault, Suki!" Sokka exclaims after throwing his arms in the air. "She started it!"

"Oh, grow up!" She grumbles, frustrated, before whapping him on the arm again. Suki sighs once and composes herself before turning her head and smiling friendlily at Aang. "Hi! You look reasonable enough," she greets. "Can you convince your friend to come back to our camp so we can tend to her injury? It could get infected if we don't handle it soon."

Aang just continues to stare forward, watching a scroll of memories no one else can see as he slowly realizes that two of his long lost friends are, in fact, standing right in front of him. He had expected it to take months, if not _years_, for him and Toph to find the rest of their friends. Hell, it took him and Toph damn near ten years to find each other again, and that was by accident. But it would seem that the spirits' wills are in their favor, because they have managed to find with Sokka and Suki so quickly. Perhaps the spirits believe that the world is in desperate need in the help that Aang hopes to provide by reuniting the gang, so there may have been some sort of divine intervention performed in order to help them reconnect faster. At this point, though, Aang couldn't care less how it happened. All that matters is that this is reality, not a dream.

Suki, still completely unaware as to who she's looking at, raises an eyebrow and tilts her head slowly. "Is everything…okay?" she asks cautiously, looking between Aang and Toph somewhat suspiciously.

Aang blinks, finally snapping back to reality. He reaches forward with one hand and places it gently on Suki's shoulder. "Suki," he pauses, a smile engulfing his voice. After checking the entrance to the alley to be sure that nobody is eavesdropping, he uses his other hand to push up his headband.

"It's me, Aang."

* * *

**I'm sorry for ending it like this but I had to update the story ASAP so yeahh.**

**Thank you all again for reviewing/following/favoriting etc. I'd love to surpass 140 or even 150 reviews soon, so if you wouldn't mind leaving me a comment or two I'd really appreciate it (no, really; your reviews literally make my day).**

**Anywho, until next time, my lovely readers,**

**~CCC16**


	12. Chapter 12: Whereabouts

**Thanks for all the reviews! You guys are awesome! :D You guys deserve a better author...like one that will actually update her story more than once every five months…**

***cringes***

**That being said, I would like to apologize for my lack of updates. I'm not going to try to give you guys any lame excuses, because being inactive for as long as I have is inexcusable. I know that I've probably lost a lot of readers because of it, and I sincerely hope that you'll come back and continue to read my story and to give me feedback. Also, because summer vacation has officially begun (!) I am going to try to keep up with this story by updating at **_**least**_** once every two weeks, but hopefully once a week.**

**Anywho, please keep on reviewing, and favs/follows are wonderful as well! Getting feedback gets the creative blood flowin'!**

**Disclaimer: Nuh uh.**

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_Chapter 12: Whereabouts_

After the convivial military medic finishes wrapping the jagged gash across the outside of her forearm, he stands up to his full height, which is, admittedly, not much. He flashes Toph a kind, closed-mouth smile that she would never see, then bows politely and walks out of the medium-sized blue tent, his long robes swishing behind him.

Toph blinks. Left alone, the semi-silence of the afternoon floods into her ears as ten year old memories of her mother bandaging her skinned knees floods into her mind. Her thin fingers rise and touch her bandages absentmindedly, contemplative thoughts making her lips purse.

From outside she can hear the voices of the rest of the soldiers in the rather large camp, many of which are buzzing about the two new arrivals. Her enhanced ears catch a few snippets of different conversations, all of them separate but each one relating back her and Aang. She hears them wondering, and she knows they have every right to be doubtful. After all, they had been hoping that when the Avatar eventually returned, he'd come with tattoos aglow and power radiating from every last inch of his body. What they got was a scruffy beanpole that shuffles about with a slight slouch about his shoulders.

Toph sighs. Her hand still slowly traces the uneven peaks of the fabric shielding her wound from infection. Sudden exhaustion creeps and seeps into her bones, leading to her neck falling slack and making her head face the floor. She hadn't realized how tired she was.

The entrance flap to her new tent is pushed open and new vibrations take the medic's place. Toph drops her hand and raises her head. She adjusts her seated position upon an overturned fruit crate, her elbows resting on her knees.

"Hey," Aang greets as he sits opposite her on a hand-sewn pillow. He raises his hand and brushes a loose lying hair away from his eyes before cocking his head. "How's your arm?"

Toph shrugs indifferently, still feeling groggy. "It was never that bad to begin with, but I suppose it's better," she replies idly.

"That's good," Aang acknowledges casually. Toph doesn't answer him besides a small nod of her head, so Aang decides she probably wouldn't care to continue discussing her injury.

"So…" He begins anew, searching his mind for a topic. "We found them." A smile plays his lips. "Sokka and Suki; we actually found them." He sounds almost uninterested, but inside he's a bustling ball of questions: Where have they been? How on earth did they become connected with the rebel army? And, perhaps most importantly, do they know where any of their other friends are?

Toph raises her head and allows herself to half smile. "I know. It's almost unbelievable how fast it happened." Her smile quickly grows. "It's been too long since I last saw them."

Aang can't help himself. He raises his eyebrow incredulously and inclines his head towards her. "_Saw_ them?"

She scowls at him, but not before chortling under her breath. Aang barely even has time to register the fact that she'd picked up a nearby pillow before it hits him square in the face. "You know what I mean, Airhead."

His grin spreads wide across his face. Just the fact that she threw a pillow rather than her fist shows the reparations they've made to their friendship in the past few weeks.

Truthfully, traveling with Toph hasn't exactly been a breeze; the two of them bicker more often than they get along. However, there are a few moments, though few and far between, where Aang can safely think that they're getting along and working well as a team. Hopefully, having Sokka and Suki around to act as buffers will make those moments occur more often.

As Aang's laughter simmers to a silent smirk, he decides to voice one of the many questions whizzing around his mind like a heard of buzzard wasps: "Do you think they know where Katara and Zuko are?"

Toph's lips purse. She lowers her head onto her fists and peers blindly at the floor again. "I don't know." She looks up and faces him again. "For all we know, those two could be on a different continent."

0o0

From behind the bush, peering through the spaces between the slightly serrated leaves, he watches the single guard standing outside of the tall, narrow stone building with a point at the top and one barred window just a few feet below the tip of the point. The bars on the window run both horizontal and vertical from what he can see, and there was only enough space between each bar for a man to rest two or three of his fingers on as he peers out the practically useless window, wishing for freedom.

A gentle yet ominous fog has situated itself above the ground, rolling past the building in large waves. The sky itself is also blanketed by clouds, but the full moon still shines through on the occasion that there is a break in the clouds. Upon his exhale, steam escapes from his nostrils. He closes his eyes and relaxes his shoulders. He has to calm down if he doesn't want to be spotted.

A hand touches his shoulder and he tenses again, but only for a millisecond. "How many can you see, Zuko?" She asks, her calm, cool voice soothing to his skin as it caresses his ear.

"Just one outside," he replies in an almost indistinguishably low tone. "But the inside is probably crawling with guards."

Despite his prediction, she laughs shortly under her breath. "I don't think they'll be a problem," she muses. When he turns around he sees that her large blue eyes are narrowed and full of mischief. The sight makes him grin.

"Are you ready, Katara?"

She peaks quickly over the bush at the guard before turning back and nodding certainly. "Let's bust him out," she exclaims in a whisper.

He nods, keeping his eyes on the one sentry standing between them and the entrance to the tower. Pressing his right fist to his open left palm, he exhales hot air from the base of his stomach into the moist air, as they'd planned, thereby adding a thick cloud of steam to the heavy fog that already hovers over the ground.

The guard looks slightly irritated by the now more nebulous air, but not much else. This is perfect, because the guard is absolutely unsuspecting of them as they use the fog as cover to creep past him, and before he can even think of the possibility of intruders, Katara has flickered her wrists and made him slip into unconsciousness, a new bloodbending technique she'd developed somewhere along the way. This is the only type of bloodbending she'll willingly use, however; she decided long ago that her days as a human puppeteer were behind her.

The building is even smaller inside than it looks from outside, just a small room leading to a winding staircase. A few orange torches light the pathway, flickering and just on the cusp of burning out. Amber eyes reflecting the dim light, Zuko ignites a fire over his hand, illuminating the area around them better. He takes a step forward, careful not to stomp and make the sound of his footsteps echo throughout the building. Practically slithering on his feet, he slips to the base of the stairs and checks to see if any guards are immediately in front of them. When he sees that all is safe, he beckons to Katara with his free hand.

"He should be just up these stairs," Zuko utters, half to himself and half to her. Their steps are as light as they can manage, but the clicking of their boots still resonates through the prison just slightly. "There's probably only a handful of guards outside of his cell; much less than we'd originally guessed."

Once they are almost at the top, the sounds of chucking and bottles clanking can be heard and an even brighter lit room appears around the corner, the stronger torches in the topmost room illuminating even into the hallway. They stop walking and listen, heads inclined towards the room.

"Hey, geezer," a husky man's voice intones. The speaker sounds as if he hasn't drank a drop of water in days, but it is not dry enough to be weak and cracking. Zuko hears the sound of swallowing and liquid sloshing from where the guard must be, then a heavy sigh. "You've been locked in that cell for so long. Have you forgotten what alcohol tastes like?"

Nobody responds to the man's question but the wind whistling through the one barred window Zuko had noticed before entering the prison.

The sloshing starts up anew and the sound of glass being passed between two people is heard. "I think he has, Zui," a second voice, more level and rodent-like than the first. The second guard takes a swig from the bottle, guzzles the remaining liquid down, then belches. "I'd offer you some, old man," he continues, wiping his mouth on the back of his palm. "But there's none left."

In the hallway, Zuko and Katara peer around the corner, making sure not to reveal their whole bodies.

There are four guards in the immediate vicinity, each of them sporting black shoulder, forearm, shin, and foot guards with the red trim and curved tips typical of Fire Nation guard uniforms: the two men that had been sharing a drink, a third man passed out in the far corner – most likely due to alcohol – and a woman no older than Katara standing against the wall, her arms crossed and one of her feet resting against the wall.

The two men still in the waking world share a quick laugh, the one with the rough voice slapping his knee and the other one grinning, intoxicated, from ear to ear.

"Oh, can't the two of you just grow up?" The woman wonders aloud, clearly exasperated. Her voice seems level and relatively kind, and no sign of her being drunk can be heard. "He used to be one of the most well-respected generals or our nation's army. Show some respect."

"Eh?" The husky man scratches his scruffy chin. He looks over at the female guard, puzzled. "Are you being serious? This bastard betrayed us on the anniversary of Sozin's comet," he reminds her, eyebrows furrowed. "Him and that blasted society of crusty old men nearly retook Ba Sing Se from Ozai's control."

The young woman rolls her eyes. "Are you referring to the Whit Lotus, Zui?"

Zui scowls, or at least attempts to in his current state, looking quite ridiculous as he does so. "So what if I am?" He retorts. "I'm your commanding officer, Jen, so I think you would do well to quit running your mouth before I report you to the higher ups." He lets out a small belch and points a finger at her. "And that's "Sir" to you, _sweetheart_."

Despite his condescending tone, Jen scoffs. "Please, Zui," she continues with a snort, ignoring his correction regarding his title. "You won't even remember this conversation come morning."

Eyebrows twitching, Zui pushes himself to his feet and all but stumbles across the room to where Jen leans against the wall, grabbing the collar of her uniform and pulling her face closer to his. "If you're trying to pick a fight with me-"

"Put. Her. Down."

At the sound of the nearly ancient, brittle voice, Zui turns his attention from Jen to the shadows of the single cell in the room. "Well well well," he exhales with a chortle. "The bag of bones has a voice, does he?"

Zuko clenches his fists hard and moves to rush into the room and knock Zui on his behind, but Katara lays his hand on his shoulder to calm him down. He turns around to gaze at her, eyes narrowed at a harsh angle. _Wait_, her calming eyes tell him. _Be patient._

The inmate wheezes gently, inhaling, then continues, "That is no way to treat a lady, Zui." His voice has a tone similar to what a parent's would have while scolding a child, but there is little strength behind it. The years of disuse of both his voice and his body are evident in the way his voice comes out between shaky breaths and ends in a small coughing fit. After all, for what reason would he need or want to speak? Maybe to exchange kind words with Jen, but the other guards seem like they wouldn't be too quick to hold a conversation with a man that had betrayed his home country.

Zui chuckles fully now, returning Jen's feet to the ground and turning so his full body faces the cell. "So the great General Iroh would like to impart his outdated wisdom upon us, eh?" He sneers disrespectfully, spitting between the bars and into the cell. "Aren't we lucky?"

At that, Zuko snaps. He runs into the room, snapping his foot up and connecting with Zui's jaw, sending him flying into the opposite wall. Katara rushes in after him, using water from her pouch to freeze the other conscious man's arms to his sides, kneeing him in the head to knock him out. Zui rises again, slowly since Zuko left him winded, but he quickly finds his feet and springs forward, his fist ablaze. Zuko catches his fist before it can connect with his face, however, and holds Zui there for a long minute, glaring into his eyes.

The whites of Zui's eyes appear as his pupils shrink. His eyes flicker about, scanning every inch of the part of Zuko's face that isn't covered with black fabric. "That scar over your left eye…" He swallows hard and his injured chin trembles, fear and confusion coming off his whole body in waves. "…No…Fire Lord Azula killed you!"

Zuko raises his foot, releases the other man's fists, and kicks him hard right in the stomach, not even bothering to add flames to the blow. Zui flies into the wall again and slumps to the ground, this time not attempting to stand back up.

At the same time, Katara and Zuko both turn their bodies towards Jen, Zuko with fists raised and Katara already having a long stream of water poised over the guard's head. Jen lowers her hands to her belt and, to their surprise, her hands raise above her head, a slightly corroded silver key hanging from her right index finger. Zuko lowers his hands and looks at Jen quizzically, his eyebrow raised. To answer his question, she tosses the key towards him and he snatches it out of the air, turning it over in his hand.

"Get him out of here," she says, sounding rushed. "Zui will regain consciousness soon and raise the alarm, so you need to get as far away from here as possible."

"What happens when they raise the alarm?" Katara asks as Zuko rushes to open Iroh's cell, meeting some difficulty as he does so.

Jen helps Zuko unlock the door before turning back to Katara. "Every Fire Nation solider within a five mile radius will be on their way here and looking to capture the people who busted one of the country's highest offenders out of prison."

Katara holds her gaze. "Right," she replies. She steps towards the cell to help Zuko and Iroh, but not before bowing respectfully to Jen. "Thank you for your help," she says gratefully.

The younger woman shakes her head. "It's nothing," she replies with humility. "My aunt knew him well; he was once a prisoner in the Capital City Prison where she worked." Jen smiles slightly. "She thought so highly of him…she always thought it was wrong for him to be locked away. I'm only doing what she'd want me to do."

Katara nods, then thinks of something. "Wait, Jen," she continues. "Won't you get in trouble for helping us?"

Jen waves her hand at Katara. "I'll make something up; I'll say that the two of you overpowered me or something of the sort."

Giving her one last appreciative smile, Katara follows Zuko into the cell.

Inside, Zuko is already helping Iroh stand. Because Zuko's aging has led to the broadening of his shoulders whilst Iroh's aging has led to his shoulders becoming hunched over and weak, not to mention the decade spent in captivity, Iroh has to sling his arm around his nephew's neck and use him for support. Katara hurries to his other side, throwing his free arm over her shoulder and offering her support as well.

Iroh appears much different from when Katara had last seen him ten years ago: his beard, which he had once been able to keep cleanly groomed, is scraggly and unkempt, and age has turned it from grey to white. His body is no longer fit and strong; his robes hang off him too loosely and Katara can feel how much weight he'd lost. Because of this, it doesn't take much effort for the two of them to help him straighten his stance.

Despite their help, however, Iroh groans as he pushes his knees to their limits. "Nephew," he begins, sounding exhausted as he addresses Zuko. "What on Earth are you doing here?"

Zuko leads the way out of the cell and towards the hallway, eyebrows knit with determination. "We're here to help you, Uncle," he replies as if it were obvious. "You've been locked up in this hell-hole long enough."

"Yes," Katara agrees. "You don't deserve this type of treatment."

Iroh eyes her intelligently. "You're the Water Tribe chief's daughter, correct?" He pauses, thinking. "Katara, was it?"

She smiles kindly at him. "That's right."

He returns her smile, a content rumbling sounding from his chest.

Their trip down the stairs is a difficult one, what with Iroh's newfound fragility, but he's never been one to give up, so he struggles through it with his teeth gritted. The guard outside of the prison is just now waking up, but before he can stop them they're already rushing towards the cover of the woods.

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**Welp, there's chapter 12.**

**Yes, I know that it's on the short side…however, I do plan to make the next few chapters longer, and a whole boatload of things are going to occur within the next five chapters. If I can, I'll try to update before next Wednesday to help compensate for being gone so long, but I make no promises.**

**If you were wondering, here are the meaning of the guards' names:  
****Zui****: Intoxicated; drunk  
****Jen****: Moral integrity; pure and chaste**

**Please please please favourite, follow, and **_**review**_**…I really want to make it to 200 reviews sometime soon…if we can hit that benchmark, I'll update two chapters at once instead of just one :D. Does that sound like a deal?**

**Aaaaaand for now I'm off to start chapter 13 and/or to finish the remaining 4 prompts of Taang week that I never finished…yay?**

**Should I even bother writing the last 4 prompts? I never had the time to finish them and Taang week was a month ago…would you guys read them? Let me know!**

**p.s. Remember Ming?! The nice lady who gave Iroh rice while he was locked up? That's Jen's aunt ^_^ (well according to me she's Jen's aunt...fanfiction headcanon accepted!)**

**p.p.s. psst guys guess what we're so close to 10,000 views on this story that makes me so happy omg**


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